


King of Hearts

by HitokoSama



Series: Star-Crossed [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Star-crossed, Tragedy/Comedy, Tragic Romance, Yaoi, mafia family problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HitokoSama/pseuds/HitokoSama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the child of the Uchiha family's Boss, Madara knew all too well of what was expected of him: hustling small time, being a drug mule; all to eventually sit in his father's chair. But that's when it changed. It all started one day on the pier; Madara met Hashirama by chance. Little did he know that this chance meeting would consume him, turning his childhood friendship into lust, love, and eventual hatred. The King of Hearts only grants his blessing when fortune favors those who possess him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pier

**Author's Note:**

> This is the origin story of Madara and Hashirama from my story The Disconnect Between Life and Death. Because the other story is told from Sasuke and Naruto's perspective, the madahashi story couldn't be told in great detail. So, I was like, bam, here we go, their story. separate and beautiful. But then I also had to wait to start posting it because, duh, spoilers. No one likes that.  
> However, if you don't know what i'm talking about, don't worry. this can be read on it's own.
> 
>  
> 
> "You wear your name as a disguise. Beware the dice and games of chance."  
> The Passion, Jeanette Winterson.

Heat sweltered and spread across the afternoon, bearing its full weight on the shoulder of pedestrians. They bunched on the sidewalk, trying not to bump into each other, dreading hot and sweaty body contact. The sun was high, burning away almost every shady place. A raven haired boy wiped the sweat away from his eyes; drops cascading down the back of his neck and past the collar of his wife beater. His shorts clung to his legs, hot and sticky, like a second, black skin.

He laid his back against a brick wall, hiding his small body in the sliver of alleyway shadows. He hated summer. He hated working in the summer. His damp, black bangs stuck to his forehead and he had to keep pushing them out of his eyes.

From the crowd on the street, a business-looking man broke away from the group. He headed down the alleyway, coughing into his hand. His eyes were shifting in the gentle darkness. The boy looked at him briefly with disgust. The man's jacket was clutched in clawed fingers, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to the elbow and wet with sweat. Every time he lifted his arms a pool of sweat from his armpit could clearly be seen. In his other hand, a briefcase, with spotty leather fading from overuse. He clutched it like it contained his soul. And the raven, being the devil to take it, smirked.

The man stopped in front of the child, eyes full of fire; his hands were shaking. The man's forehead was lightly sunburnt, but looked worse from how red in the face he was. He knew this man wasn't brave enough to strike him, but the urge was there, spirally madly in his eyes. "I won't lose again." He tossed the briefcase at the boy, who ducked to the side. It cracked open against the brick, spilling out countless bills around the raven's feet. He blinked, mentally counting. It looked like it was all here, even if it was all on the ground.

The smirk which sprung from the boy’s lips made the man twitch. "We could go double or nothing again, if you want. Maybe you'll redeem yourself."

The man's eyes narrowed; "I've lost enough."

As the child bent over, his sweaty hair fell forward, drops hitting the concrete. He made sure everything was secured before he straightened himself. Eyes, which seemed far too deep to be that of a mere boy, were full of malice as he opened his mouth again, "You'll come back. They always do."

"I won't lose again."

"You already said that." He stated, leaning his back against the wall again.

The man stormed out of the alley, only to be deflated every further upon his retreat by the man who passed by him on his way out. The boy chuckled to himself as his father approached him, not showing a single bead of sweat on his face. "You get it all?"

"Yes, sir." The exchange was brief.

"Here, I want you to double it." Black hair fell into his eyes as he watched as his father dip into the case, retrieving a few bills for him to use. He nodded, watching as his father's shadow crossed the brick wall before pausing at the opening of the alley. He looked over his shoulder. “Oh and, good work, Madara.”

\----

"Find the King of Hearts!" Madara shouted. A group had gathered around him near instantly, all of them watching his swift hands make quick work of the three cards he passed around on the small table. He always got a big spectacle, just because people thought they could defeat him. It made Madara smirk when a new sucker came up each day.

That day's sucker was a man in his forties, balding, sunburnt from head to toe. His face was flabby, with loose hanging skin around his neck and chin. But Madara knew, just from the look in the man's eyes, he was proud; an all-day sucker.

After doing this for two years, Madara had learned quite a few things: Make assholes lose quickly, lose only when you can get ahead, and always bait the arrogant. He had become very good at hooking them, knowing which words to use, what mannerisms, body language. It had taken months to perfect, but Madara had become efficient.

The man approached the table, looking down at how quickly Madara's fingers moved. He had developed tricks for this too. He practiced every night for at least an hour just to make sure his technique was up to his father's standards. Not that most of the street suckers knew who Madara was. It was better they didn't.

It would be bad for business.

Madara's red eyes peered up from the cards, his hands stilling. "Wanna try your luck? Only a dollar to play."

"And what do I win?"

Madara bit back a smirk. "Double whatever you put in. Dollar in, two out. Ten in, twenty out. But if you lose, that's double for me. Get it?"

The man, far too full of himself, and probably attempting to boost his confidence with the shocked gasps, threw down a hundred. Madara blinked, trying far too hard to keep himself washed with indifference. "Can you handle that, kid?"

Madara slapped down two hundreds of his own, without flinching. "You tell me."

It was the small surreal moments in life that gave Madara the most pleasure, like when he watched the sparkle of confidence in the man's eyes burn out. He knew his luck pretty well by now, knew how to hook this guy. He also knew this man had enough cash to pay out.

He may get a huge hit like last time. He swallowed a smirk.

Purposefully, Madara slid the cards around in a very readable order, but he did it quickly, just to make the man feel better, lull him. When he was finished, the man was smirking triumphantly, pointing to the card of the right. He flipped it over, sighing and handing over the bills. The man's posture changed, Madara had hooked him in, flawlessly.

"Impressive. But I bet, double or nothing, you couldn't do that again."

The man was already was too deep to stop. He pulled even more money out of his wallet and Madara bit back a laugh of sheer malice. He had to hide his mirth by biting his cheek. Risk-taking was something this man did often, and this risk would prove too steep. Two years of this had trained the raven see it. And he knew exactly how to handle it. Madara usually let them ride the high until they reached a point where the payout was huge, insanely so. He rarely ever lost them that far in.

But today, he wasn't going to rob this man blind. The five large bills told Madara a little story about this man; he went big, fast. He would get out of there quick after this larger victory, and he relied on the support of the crowd for confidence.

Madara slapped down a grand, looking up with a smile on his face. But his eyes, they were dark, looking anything but innocent. The man saw this look but seemed to ignore it. With his hands on the cards, Madara began to shuffle them, employing all tricks he had learned. Double-backing them, palming them, creating the illusions of card movement. The man looked somewhat shaken when Madara pulled his hand back. "Find the King." He said it as gently, and innocently as he could. It sounded forced.

The man's face had lost its confidence. His hands trembled as he pointed to the card on Madara's right. He bit back a smirk as he flipped it over, revealing the Jack of Spades. The man's eyes were wide, sitting like ornaments of shame on his face. Madara shrugged. "That'll be a grand, please." The crowd started to roar with laughter, the man's face scorching red as he looked around, eyes scanning for some sign of sympathy.

"How the fuck did you do it?" Madara scooted back as his now enraged customer tried to grab him. He really did hate when they started to cause a scene. HIs eyes scanned around the area, spotting two of his father's men, watching, both ready. But he didn't want it to come to that.

"You lost, sir. Please, hand over the money."

"You shitty brat." The man reached out, grabbing Madara by the front of his wife beater. His table tipped, but did not fall over. His father's men would be here soon. Madara reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace, shining the white and red fan in the man's face. A symbol well-known, even by strangers.

The man, face suddenly pale and soaked in sweat, reeled back, letting Madara go. He dug in his pocket, pulling out his wallet. With shaking hands, he threw the money Madara had won down on the table.

People started murmuring among the small crowd, slowly clearing out. Madara sighed, knowing that this was probably as good as he was going to do. He'd been out there for three hours, from the rising heat of afternoon, to when the sun's head hit its high, the sweltering heat was boring down on him. It would be another hour or so before the cool settled in.

His father's men were watching him, and Madara made a brief signal. They started to move in; it was collecting time. Madara started to clean up, shaking his head. He'd have to move his operation tomorrow. To Madara, it was really too bad. Being next to the pier meant there was a nice, cool breeze during the heat of day, and the pier itself attracted all kinds of people. It had been a great spot. He'd managed tripled the money his father had given him in only three hours. He doubted he'd find a spot this good the next day.

Madara quickly shoved the money he'd made into the pockets of his cousins, checking for people watching. No one seemed to notice him now. After the short scramble, his cousin looked down at him, pulling a few hundred from his pocket. "Here's your share, kid." Madara nodded his thanks as his cousins packed up the rest of his equipment and carried it off. 

They left him there with a deck of cards and three hundred bucks. Madara counted it as a good day.

He sighed, waiting around for a bit. Madara watched as the only cloud in the sky passed over head, thin and lifeless in the bright blue sky. He looked over at one of the stands, seeing it was only about six in the evening. He was about to leave when a shadow passed over his own, encasing him in fleeting darkness. Madara turned, ready to bolt, when he realized it wasn't a threat. It was another kid, probably about the same age as him. His dark brown hair was cut around his forehead and ears, looking bowl-ish. His dark eyes locked with Madara's showing no malice, nor intent. He smiled, showing off a fair amount of teeth. "Wow, you really got that guy good. How'd ya do it?"

Madara was thankful his father's 'help' had disappeared, otherwise they'd definitely move in and try to intimidate this kid. He could do it perfectly well himself. He straightened up, the kid's eyes following him as he did so. "He was an idiot. It was easy." Madara's cool attitude didn't deter the kid at all, following after Madara as he tried to head off the pier and onto the boardwalk.

"Obviously, he didn't watch your hands at all." Madara paused when he heard this, looking over his shoulder.

"You could follow my hands?"

"Of course, you stack them inside your palms, right?"

Madara didn't know how to respond, just shrugging. "Can't give away all my secrets."

The kid laughed, a little too loudly. Madara felt strangely at ease, stopping again. He thrust his hand towards Madara and he blinked with the sudden show of comradery. "Hashirama."

"Madara." They shook hands. A strange sense of happiness filed Madara when Hashirama's fingers fanned out, checking Madara's wrist. "You do realize I don't have any sleeves to hide a weapon."

"Sorry, instinct."

Madara knew that Hashirama must have be affiliated with a mafia syndicate. Which one, he wasn't sure. But he had purposefully left out his family name and then weapon checked him. It wasn't an amateur family, but Madara knew, he wasn't part of his family's group. He would have come up when his cousins had been taking away his table if that were the case. Besides that, though, none of his cousins looked like Hashirama.

"So, do you wanna play against me?" Hashirama asked suddenly. Madara blinked owlishly, smirking a little after he contained his shock. Hashirama was smiling, but this time it looked competitive, full of naivety.

"You saw me take that guy for a grand; you really wanna press your luck today?"

Hashirama shrugged. "Well, I mean, if you're chicken..."

Madara felt his blood pump hotly in his veins. "Who you callin' a 'chicken'?" A cool breeze passed between them, flinging their sweat soaked hair around their faces. Madara's damply stuck to his neck and forehead. He brushed it away, trying to look confident and intimidating. "What's your wager? I doubt you could pull a grand out of your pocket."

"You couldn't either." Hashirama pointed out, smiling just a good-naturedly as before. Madara realized that Hashirama had been watching him earlier. He wasn't sure why. "Why not keep it friendly? Loser buys us both ice cream."

Madara smirked, triumph just a few moves away. "Sounds perfect." He grabbed the deck of cards from his pocket. 

\---

Waves crashed against the barnacle ridden pier wood, making the small fan-like appendages spring out and collect their bounty. Madara watched, the sea life moving around, underneath the waves. His popsicle tasted like raspberry and defeat. It dripped off the top, landing in the waves and dissolving like it was never there. Hashirama leaned his back against the wooden railing, humming happily.

"I can't believe I lost." Madara muttered sullenly.

"You lost three times." Hashirama reminded, laughing. "And you doubled up each time. That's eight cones, my friend."

Madara's face looked sour as he bit off the top of one of his popsicle halves. He chewed it angrily. Hashirama laughed again, turning so he could look over the side of the pier. A flock of seagulls called from overhead, their high-pitched calls mixing with the crash of waves. One swooped down low, its wing skimming over Hashirama's hand. Out of shock, Hashirama's hand un-flexed, dropping his cone into the water below. Madara watched with astonished amusement as the vanilla smeared across the water's surface before sinking with the cone. He tried to hold back his laughter, but the utterly defeated look on Hashirama's face was too sweet and deserved.

Madara laughed until his sides hurt and he couldn't breathe properly. He was holding a hand to his stomach as he coughed, trying to catch his breath again. Hashirama's posture looked horrifically depressed. Madara sucked in a harsh breath. "Man, Karma did come for you." He started laughing again, breathlessly wheezing after a couple seconds. "That was such poetic justice."

Hashirama's face looked devoid of life as depression sunk into him, covering him in a cloud of darkness. Madara, after getting ahold of himself, broke his popsicle in half. "Here." He handed the blue icy treat to Hashirama, who looked at him with renewed joy.

"Thanks, Mada-"

"Don't be thankful, that counts as one. Now I only owe you six more."

Hashirama rolled his eyes. "Fine."

The sun's light was starting to wan, covering the two of them in a dying, yellow light. Painting over the sky's blue with reds and purples, night slowly started to swallow up the light. Behind the line of waves, the sun was half-way to sunk. Somewhere in the distance, the bells of a church started to chime, signaling the time. "I'm going to have to leave soon."

"Me too."

Together, they stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing off the pier and into the ocean below. The only noise was that of the water and the life which buzzed around them. Madara nibbled on the top of his popsicle, looking into the eyes of his reflection. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Hashirama was staring at him. "What?"

"That guy, because of him you're probably going to have to move, right?"

Madara didn't look away from the water. "It would be a risk for me to stay here, yeah."

"How am I going to find you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow?"

Hashirama laughed. "Uh, yeah, you still owe me six cones. Or were you planning on skipping out on me?"

Madara clicked his tongue. "A bet is a bet. I won't back down." He took a large bite of his popsicle, tongue already quite blue from the treat. "I ain't afraid of some old guy."

"Yeah, right. You'd be afraid if that old guy brought the cops."

"If that happened, you'd better help me escape."

"You'd definitely owe me more ice cream after that."

"Hn? What kind of friend are you?" Hashirama started to laugh and Madara couldn't help himself and started smiling. He hadn't got many chances to meet many people his age. Almost all of his cousins were older than him by three years or more.

Madara threw the stick of his finished popsicle in the water, smirking as he turned his head towards Hashirama. He smiled back. A warm feeling spread through them as they stood there for a few moments longer. Madara was happy. He was definitely happy he had met Hashirama.

\---

The Uchiha mansion was one which commanded respect of any who looked upon it. It towered over the buildings next to it. Pseudo-gothic architecture bred the mood to feel foreboding, charged with fear. The many jagged points of the roof-tops pierced the skies, bleeding into the night. Each point shone like a star. Walls of the dark painted wood, curved like towers on the sides, lending itself a castle feeling. A fortress of the Uchiha family.   

Madara walked up the driveway, opening the wrought-iron gate and slamming it behind him. The sky was no longer painted in the colors of sunset, but in the cool darkness of night. He had stayed out on the pier far longer than he expected, and had yet to come up with a good excuse. He swallowed, keeping his face composed as he opened the door. One of his cousins was walking by, nodding his acknowledgement to Madara.

"Your father's been looking for ya." He said as the smaller Uchiha passed by.

Madara mumbled his thanks has he passed into the foyer, weaving his way around the rest of his family as they drunkenly laughed and horsed around. One of them tried to goad Madara into dealing cards for them, but he chose to just ignore him. His father would only be more annoyed if he showed up even later.

He took a short-cut through the kitchen, one of the cooks scolding him, or more like attempting to, for him missing dinner. Madara gave her a sweet look and she shooed him, a small smile on her lips. He knew that look; he'd be getting his dinner brought to him shortly.

When he finally reached the stairs, he stood at the bottom for a moment, just glancing at the bottom one. The wood was starting to wear from the amount of feet it saw in a given day. He felt suddenly exhausted, but he knew he couldn't let it show. His father would think that he was weakening. He was only twelve, still a mere child with mindless amount of energy.

He rushed up the stairs, seeing a familiar head disappearing into his father's office. Izuna would be starting out doing his own stint with small crimes soon. One day, he'd inherit Madara's position as hustler, and Madara would move even farther up the ladder of felonies.

The dark stained oak door blocked his path to see his father. Madara knew he shouldn't have spent so much time at the pier. He was in desperate need of a bath; he was still moist with sweat, sticky and crusted over with the salt of his skin. He took a deep breath through his mouth and opened the door, holding himself with the posture of royalty.

Tajima Uchiha stood in front of a fire place, which was obnoxiously still lit in the middle of summer. He was looking up at an oil painting, one that was finished a few months after Izuna had been born, a few months before his first brother died. Madara said nothing, just standing in the middle of the room.

"Madara! You're back!" Izuna ran up to him, throwing his arms around Madara's midsection and burying his face into the older boy’s chest. He looked up, dark eyes full of both affection and admiration.

"Welcome home, son."

"Father."

"You were out late."

Madara bit the inside of his lip. "I know."

His father sighed, shaking his head. "You may have been in the neutral zone, Madara, but that doesn't mean you're safe there."

"Forgive me, I-"

"Forgive you? No, I cannot forgive you. You obviously need reminding of what exactly is at stake if you decided to dawdle in that place." Madara froze as he gained his father's full attention. His eyes narrowed, holding the raven in place with his stare. "More than one of your brother have been slain in that exact location; the neutral zone isn't neutral after dark."

"I'm sorry, Father..."

He sighed, walking over to Madara and placing his hand on the black spikes. "The fact of the matter is, Madara, that you're still just a child and if you think that will deter the Senju at all, you're wrong. They're monstrous people; remember when it comes to them, you should only believe half of what you see, and nothing of what you hear."

Madara turned his face away, feeling ashamed of himself for getting caught up so easily with Hashirama. Ice filled him when he remembered his promise of the next day. Sweat beaded up on his brow as he realized he needed to keep his word for at least six more days.

Then, it would be over.

"As for today, however, I am not at all surprised you managed to triple what I gave you." Madara knew that was the closest thing he'd ever get to a compliment from his father. "Tomorrow, however, you need to choose a different spot."

Madara wet his lips. "No, I think the same location will be fine. I assume you were told about...my last customer..."

"He could be trouble."

"I flashed my necklace; he'd think twice about messing with me."

His father hummed in consideration. "I'll trust your judgment, today, Madara. But if you're wrong about tomorrow, don't think I will a second time."

"Thank you. I will make you proud."

He said nothing as he turned away from his sons, leaving Madara in his father’s flickering shadow.

Izuna, who had stayed silent throughout the entire exchange, tugged at Madara's shirt impatiently. "Aniki, you promised today you'd show me card tricks!"

Madara smiled, leading Izuna out of the room, but not before the two of them bowed. "Okay, okay, some of the guys wanted me to deal cards for them. I show you how stack a deck without anyone noticing." Izuna smiled brightly, hanging onto Madara's arm as they went back downstairs.

\--

The Senju manor was layered in brick, which, in the near dusk darkness, painted the stacked stones brown and not the burnt red of the day. The roof pointed up to the sky, holding the moon at the highest point of the front. It was unusually dark inside for the time, but Hashirama wasn’t concerned with that. He pushed through the front gate, fumbling to close it quickly.

Hashirama ran up to the front door of the Senju manor, passing through the bricked arch, and throwing the wood out of his way. He was sweating, thick drops cascading down his forehead as he moved as quickly as he could around the members of his family. They were all silent, some saying things in a tone barely above a whisper. A few cast disapproving glances at Hashirama. He ignored them though.

He was late.

So unbelievably late.

Tobirama was leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, waiting for Hashirama patiently. He swore under his breath, trying not to show the panic in his face as he approached his little brother. Tobirama, as per usual, had a face cold demeanor, but there was something in his eyes, something overwhelming. Tobirama said nothing has he pointed towards the stairs.

The panic returned in full force, causing Hashirama’s heart to thunder in his ears and beat heavy in his chest. He turned a corner and ran upstairs, nearly tripping over the rug. He stopped at the door, catching his breath and wiping away the sweat from his brow. Hashirama straightened up slightly as his breathing became more even. As he calmed his appearance, Tobirama’s feet softly carried him up, stopping behind Hashirama. He still said nothing.

Hashirama felt the breath catch in his throat when he recognized something; a faint smell coming from the hallway. He looked down at the white carpeting, noticing, for the first time, the red puddles leading up to the door.

“Where’s Itama?” Tobirama said nothing in response. His eyes widened as he looked back down at the puddles, feeling suddenly sick. He leaned against the wall. “TELL ME!”

Tobirama blinked, pointing towards the door to their father’s office. “Go in. Father’s waiting.”

Hashirama barely could hold himself together as he grabbed onto the door handle, forcing his weight into the wood. He felt sick, his stomach curling as the stench of blood and cigarette smoke engulfed him even more. On the hard wood floors, there was a small body, obscured by a sheet. He didn’t need to pull back the sheet to know that Itama was underneath it.

His father stood at far corner, by the window. It was cracked, only slightly. He had a cigarette in his fingers, looking out into the backyard. He tossed the butt through the crack and turned. The gaze which his father held him with made Hashirama’s back tense. He had to hold back his tears for Itama, for now, at least. Butsuma Senju towered over Hashirama, staring him down.

“Where were _you_?” Hashirama flinched at his father’s words. He opened his mouth to explain but his father hand struck him across the cheek, messing up his balance. Hashirama refused to fall though, faltering and stepping back from the body on the floor. Tobirama put a hand on his shoulder. Whether it was to comfort or steady him, Hashirama wasn’t sure. “You idiot! Because you were late, this happened to Itama! There were Uchihas in the territory and your brother was alone! What were you _thinking_?”

Hashirama was silent, knowing if he said anything it would just make things worse. His father started to pace, taking casual glances at the sheet now and again. He was shaking his head and mumbling under his breath. He paused, setting his shoulders. “Get out. Both of you.” 

Tobirama tugged on Hashirama’s arm, pulling his older brother out of the room. His gaze was fixed on the sheet. When the door closed and obscured his view of the room, Hashirama let his tears fall. 

\---

After his cousins helped with the clean-up and were safely out of distance, Madara scouted around for Hashirama in the thinning crowd. He started to walk towards the pier, still glancing around. He finally spied him, sitting on the railing of the pier at the farthest end, staring into the water. He ran up, smirking as he grabbed Hashirama on the arms, pulling him back.

“Thought you could hide from me?” Madara’s smirk faded away when he saw the tear stains on Hashirama’s cheeks.

He tried to awkwardly wipe away the tears, feeling embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to hold himself together to meet Madara. The raven was silent; a respectful look on his face as he let Hashirama get himself together. “Sorry…This is probably really awkward.”

“It’s okay. I should have called to you first.”

Hashirama shrugged. “I’m glad you’re back today. Looks like you do make good on your promises.” He tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth were faltering.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Somehow, Madara’s question stunned Hashirama. He hadn’t even talked about it with his own family, besides his father scolding him. He sighed, composing himself. He looked back down at the water lapping up on the shore. “My brother died last night. My youngest brother…He wasn’t even ten yet. He was…He…”     

Madara leaned against the railing, joining Hashirama in watching the waves. Unsure, Madara took an awkward glance at Hashirama. He was never very good with comforting people, but he could at least try; let Hashirama know that they shared the same pains.

His hand slid on top of Hashirama’s, squeezing it gently. “I used to have five brothers. Now it’s only my little brother and me.”

Stunned, Hashirama turned his head to look at Madara, but he wasn’t returning the glance. “What happened to them?”

“Probably the same thing that happened to yours.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, letting the heat of the day slowly pass in silence. Somehow Hashirama just felt better with Madara being there, so close in the space they shared. The raven hadn’t moved his hand.

“Do you think it will ever end?” Hashirama asked. They both turned their heads to look at each other.

“What?”

“The fighting.”

Madara let a breath out through his nose. “I really hope so. I’d like to live to my fifteenth birthday.”

“I don’t understand why they have to get us involved.”

“Because we’re the future. We’re the ones who have to clean up the messes adults make while they’re in charge. But we’ll just end up making the same choices.”

“Why would we do that?” Hashirama squeezed Madara’s hand, grabbing his full attention. “Why can’t we change the rules?”

“That's not how it works.”

“But when we’re adults, we can make our own way. Stop all the fighting, ending the deaths of our brothers and sisters.”

Madara nodded. “I’m only twelve and I’m already tired of all this, you know?”

“Yeah…” Hashirama glanced out of his peripherals at Madara. “Madara, are you a boss’s son?”

The raven felt his back tense and he pulled his hand off of Hashirama’s, wiping the sweat that had accumulated between their skins on his shorts. He looked off slightly in the distance, not able to meet Hashirama’s curious gaze. “I’m hustling on a pier, what do you think?”

“Right, you’d probably be better at it if you were a boss’s son.”

“What did you say?” Hashirama laughed as Madara punched him in the shoulder. “The only reason you beat me is dumb-luck.” Madara pulled out the stack of cards from his pocket, fanning them out in front of them. “Bet, you double or nothing, you can’t win today.”

“You’re going to owe me so much ice cream, Madara.” Hashirama smirked, readying himself for the Madara’s tricky hands.

Madara had promised himself that this wouldn’t last more than six days. But he had intentionally taken out his stack of cards. He pulled the King of Hearts out of the deck and looked at it for a moment before glancing back at Hashirama. This wasn’t something that would be resolved so quickly in six days.

\---      

Weeks flew by in a flurry of meetings on the pier. The days bleeding together with mixed bits of information, laughter, smiles. Slowly, the summer's heat was starting to weaken, breaking down as the fall's winds blew and cooled the city. They still met on the pier, both Hashirama and Madara deciding it was the best place. Despite any mental protest about the neutral zone.

"Hey, do you go to school in town?"

Madara was surprised by the question. "No. I have private tutors at home."

"I thought so." Hashirama said, still not quite looking at Madara.

"That's just how my father wants things."

"You should try to convince him to put you in an actual school." Hashirama turned, smiling.

"I don't think he'd go for it. The closest school district is in the Senj-" Madara forced himself to stop. He had almost done something dangerous. He had almost revealed which alliance his family fell into.

"Madara, I know you're an Uchiha." Hashirama stated very calmly.

Madara's eyes widen as he tried to contain his shock, but was failing to do so. He felt his legs twitch, signaling to him that he was ready to bolt. Run far away and never return. But there was something, something gentle and calm, in Hashirama's eye that kept Madara from running. He turned his head. "So, you're a Senju then, right?"

"I've always wondered why that mattered." The Uchiha blinked at Hashirama's words, not quite understanding what he meant. They shared a look and Hashirama pulled himself up onto the railing of the pier, legs swinging over the water. "I mean, why does it matter which family I have? Does that really make me so different than you?"

“I don’t think we’re that different.” Madara replied, with a shrug. “But we’re just kids. We don’t know anything about the ‘real’ story.”

Hashirama nodded. “Sometimes, I don’t even think there is a ‘real’ story. Just that they continued to fight.”

“It’s hard to keep balance when you’re angry.”

“Yeah…I guess letting bygones be bygones would be too hard for them.” They sat in silence for a moment and Madara looked up at Hashirama’s face. He was looking up into the sky, letting the air from the breeze cool him. He glanced towards Madara, smiling.

It was weird, for Madara, to think that he had never had to hide who he was from Hashirama. His family didn’t matter to him, that it was just a name. An unknown happiness blossomed across Madara’s heart while heat sunk into his cheeks, warming his face. He had to break their eye contact, looking into the waters below the pier.   

“How long have you known?” Madara’s voice was quiet, looking at Hashirama’s face through his peripherals.

“What?”

“That I was an Uchiha.”

“Oh.” Hashirama’s voice was smooth, gentle. He shrugged. “I always knew. I saw you flash your necklace to that guy; I know what that fan means.”

“But you weren’t afraid I was…”

“Going to hurt me?” Hashirama shrugged. “Not really. I was hoping you’d be different. I mean, we’re just kids, you know?”

“Yeah…That’s true.”   

"Can I tell you something?"

Madara shrugged. "Yeah."

"I don't want to inherit my father's position." The Uchiha's eyes widened at the admission, causing him to turn his to head and stare at Hashirama. He was still looking out into the horizon. "I don't want what's happening to keep happening. I'm twelve and I have to worry about getting gunned down in the streets just because of my name."

"It's scary. Today might be your last day, you know?" Madara mused, pulling himself up on the railing. HIs hair blew around his face, shading his eyes from view. "But, you need to inherit that position."

Hashirama turned his head to look at Madara. "Why?"

"Because one day I'll be the boss of the Uchiha family."

The wind stirred up between them, filling the silence with the faintness of whistling. Their eyes were locked, every emotion reflecting in their irises, and not a word needed to be said. Madara knew that they, together, could change their lives of their families. With Hashirama, he could do anything.

\---

Madara shut the door behind him, noticing it was really quiet for the time. Usually his cousins were all raising Hell in the living room, playing cards and drinking. He walked through the kitchen and noticed none of the staff acknowledged him. A chill crept through his back as he headed into the hallway. A bead of sweat ran down Madara's neck, sliding between the fabric of his shirt and his skin.

The only times the house was so quiet was because...

Madara paused in front of the stairs, eyes slowly widening. He grabbed the railing and pushed his body forward, running up them as fast as he could. He needed to see his father. He needed to confirm it.

The door slammed into the wall as Madara ran into his father's office, looking around for a body. When he saw nothing, he looked up at his father, who looked very displeased. Izuna was standing next to him, throwing a glance at his brother from over his shoulder.

"So, that's why you've been so distracted." Tajima began, shaking his head in disapproval.

"What? I don't know what you're tal-"

"Madara, shut up." The raven shut his mouth. His stomach felt like it was sinking, as though he swallowed a bag of stones. He knew what his father was about to say, and thinking back, he should have known better. "He's a Senju, you know."

“I do-“

"I said shut your fucking mouth." Tajima straightened in the leather chair by his desk. "Izuna saw you with him." Madara held his face like it was made out of marble, concealing the shock of his brother's betrayal. "You've really played where you shouldn't have, getting that close to the Senju Boss's boy."

"He wouldn't ever think about killing me." Madara snapped, quickly managing to get some words of his defense out.

His father started laughing, shaking his head. "I miss being young and naive. The fact remains, Madara, he is a Senju and you're an Uchiha. One day, he will turn on you and with that attitude you have about him, you'll never be ready. You're my heir, it dies when you do."

Madara felt suddenly sick, heat rushing up into his face, hating himself for being so caught up in Hashirama. But the voice at the back of his head nagged him, yelling otherwise. Hashirama knew he was an Uchiha, but he hadn't done anything. If he had called his father's men, Madara would have been done for. But he hadn't. Hashirama hadn't laid a single hand against him. Between them, it was different.

His father didn't understand.

Not that he could say so.

"Go to that pier again, Madara, and you'll never leave the Uchiha territory until the day I die."Madara bowed his head, looking down at his feet. "Get out." The raven bowed deeply to his father, face almost touching his knees, before he curtly turned on his heel, leaving the room.

His footfalls were near to silent on the stairs, heading for his room. He heard Izuna following after him, but chose to ignore his brother's presence, anger bubbling from the boiling heat of his betrayal. "Madara, please, wait."

Madara opened the door to his room, about to step inside when Izuna grabbed onto the back of his shirt, pulling him out into the hallway. "I'm sorry, Madara, I am, but you were putting yourself in danger!”

The older Uchiha blinked, nodding his head. He cast his eyes downward, looking at Izuna's still chubby face. Madara knew his brother had only tried to keep him safe; Izuna had been old enough to experience the loss of their brothers.

But, the raven felt anger nipping at his throat, hatred swimming in his blood. He sneered at Izuna, leaning down so that they could be face to face, noses barely a hair apart. "Well, next time, remember, I don't need your fucking help." He slammed the door in Izuna's face.

\----

"Oi, remember what your pops said." Madara rolled his eyes and handed his cousin the money he'd made for day.

"Do you think I'm deaf or just stupid?" His cousin started smirking and Madara huffed. "I'll be home in less than an hour."

"Yeah, yeah." Madara flipped his cousin the bird as the older Uchiha walked out of the alleyway, laughing to himself about his little cousin's scolding. Madara felt annoyed but he knew it would pass. He had to focus on the goal for today. Once his cousin was a few minutes away, Madara was going to head to the pier, and figure out something with Hashirama. They had less than an hour to plan it all. But Madara was ready to try, even if he had to run back home so fast his lungs started bleeding.

It wouldn't end there.

Not that easily.

Madara peeked out into the sidewalk, not seeing any sign of a tail. He wouldn't put it past his father to have him tracked down by someone else in the family. His father would know be suspicious of anything Madara did now. It would be a long time before his father allowed him another inch of freedom.

He wove himself in the crowd, easily passing around other pedestrians and getting jumbled in between the people. If anyone was following him, they would lose him quickly. Madara smirked as he rushed through the throngs of people, becoming one with the crowd, letting his identity become muffled in the heat and sweat of other human bodies.

When he managed to exit the streets of the city and enter the neutral zone, a rush of adrenaline filled his blood. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he ran down a small incline, jumping off the sidewalk and into the street, weaving through traffic. The boardwalk was relatively abandoned, which just made finding Hashirama even easier.

Madara was panting by the time he got to Hashirama, who looked at the Uchiha with a puzzled look. "Where were you?"

"Doesn't matter. We need a new spot."

"What? Did something happen?"

Madara nodded furiously, coughing slightly as he raised his head to look at Hashirama's face. "My dad knows about us. He's suspicious. We need to go somewhere else."

Hashirama looked bewildered, but nodded his head, looking around. "Uhhhhh...Where were you thinking?"

The Uchiha's eye twitched. "I don't know. That's why I asked you, stupid."

"I don't know much about the other neutral zones!" The Senju exclaimed with an exasperated wave of his hand.

"Well, we don't have much time to figure it out, Hashi-" Madara felt a sharp pain tug at his scalp. His body was lifted slightly off the ground and he grabbed onto the hand which had embedded nails into his flesh. Before Madara knew it, a knife was pressed into the tender skin of his throat. His eyes widened. A small trickle of red split on his creamy white neck.

"I was wondering why you insisted on staying out so late, every day.” The grip on Madara’s scalp tightened and the Uchiha let out a whine of pain. He kicked his legs, but couldn’t land any hits. His neck was tilted back at a painful angle, exposing more of the white skin. “When Tobirama told me you were hanging with an Uchiha brat, I knew I had to do something. You never listened well, Hashirama.”

"Father?!" Hashirama's face shown with panic, eyes wide with a sudden fear. "Let go of him! Put him down!"

“Let him go?" Butsuma's eyes flashed with anger at the insistent nature of his son. "Are you stupid? This is Tajima's oldest son, his heir. If I get rid of him, he'll only have one brat left. Then, the Uchiha Empire will crumble."

"Funny, I was thinking the same about your son." Tajima walked forward, his feet echoing off the wood of the pier. He had a gun in his hand, aimed at Hashirama's skull. The boy turned, hands shaking as he saw the barrel lined up with his face. "Let Madara go, Butsuma."

"Put down your gun, Tajima." Madara winced when the blade pressed harder into his neck, the trickle transforming into a waterfall across his neck. It still wasn't deep enough to kill, but the fear was almost enough to do away with him. He locked eyes with his father, who seemed too collected in this time of panic. "Put it down, step away, and I'll return your son to you."

"Ha, do you think I'm stupid enough to believe that?" Tajima pulled back the hammer, still having a very stunned Hashirama in his sights. "Put down my son, or I'll leave a gaping hole in yours."

"Both of you need to drop your weapons." A sultry female voice filled the tense silence surrounding them. Tajima and Butsuma both tensed, locking eyes with each other. Butsuma pulled the knife away from Madara's neck, setting him back on his feet. He ran over to his father, his heart pounding as he hid behind his father's back. He wiped at the blood at his neck. Tajima held up both of his hands, settling the gun back into the holster at his hip.

"This is the neutral zone for a reason." Madara, finally regaining some of his composure, looked over at the woman speaking. On both sides of her, there was a man, dressed all in black. Their faces were vacant as they looked on. "You two have no jurisdiction here. This part is all mine..."

Her hair was long, nearly sweeping the ground as she took steps forward. It was the color of blood, deep and darkly red. But Madara found his adrenaline pumped the most when he looked into her eyes. They were white, no pupils, but it seemed as though she could still see. Her gaze locked with Madara's and he felt the blood rushing down to his legs. He wanted to run. "Let me see them.”

Tajima nudged Madara, pushing him forward. He looked back at his father, a nervous bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. "Go."

Butsuma did the same with Hashirama. Both of them, walking side by side, took their time in approaching this woman. She bred an emotion in their hearts which they had no name for.

She reached out slightly, cupping one cheek from each boy. The skin of her thumb was smooth against Madara's cheek, but he felt hot; sticky from his nervousness. She didn't smile at them, just consumed them with colorless eyes. Hashirama could barely see Madara's face through his peripherals but he was glad to see that his friend seemed just as freaked out as he was.

Suddenly, she moved her hands off their cheeks, grabbing them on the chins and pulling them forward. "Boys, boys, boys, I'm fine with the two of you seeing each other in the neutral zone, but if you two continue to cause me problems, I will not hesitate to kill you both. Understand?"

She forced them both to nod and pushed them back, straightening herself before heading off the boardwalk. Madara watched her back getting smaller and smaller as she simply disappeared into the brightness of the distance. 

\---

Hashirama drummed his pencil against his desk, frowning. Since the incident at the pier, he hadn’t seen Madara at all. His father was too angry about what had happened to let him out of the Senju territory. He had at least one cousin with him at all times. He hated it. He just wanted to see his friend.

Plus Madara still owed him sixty cones of ice cream.

His teacher cleared her throat as she walked into the classroom. “Good morning, everyone. I have a special announcement today. We’re getting a new student.” She opened the door a little wider and a boy with hair as dark as raven feathers walked into the room, smirking. The King of Hearts was stuffed into the clear protector of his binder. Hashirama looked up from his desk, eyes widening. “Everyone, give Madara a warm welcome, okay?”

Hashirama felt the air in his throat catch as he looked around him, Madara walking towards the only empty desk. It was on the other side of the room. He turned towards the boy next to him. The boy blinked. “Move.” Hashirama said in a harsh tone.

The boy frowned, crossing his arms. “Why should I?”

Madara, in the time Hashirama had failed to usurp the other boy, stopped in front of the boy’s desk. He was staring up at Madara, arms still folded. The Uchiha leaned into the boy’s face, hand on the desk surface. “Because this is my spot.” The blood red color of the Uchiha’s glare sent a cold chill right up the boy’s spine. He got up quickly, picking his stuff up and practically running away from the desk. Hashirama felt a wave of happiness spread through him as Madara set his binder down, settling into the desk.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Hashirama said, leaning over into Madara’s space.

The Uchiha smirked. “My father agreed that, maybe, it would be better if I went to an actual school for a change.”

Hashirama’s smile was bright, spreading across his face so widely that it looked like his cheeks were going to split. “I don’t even care. What lunch do you have? I have the one after third block, oh, oh, what’s your schedule like? What classes do we have together?”

Madara handed over his green slip of paper to the too eager Hashirama, biting back the excitement he felt blooming in his chest. It had taken a lot of bargaining for his father to agree for this moment, but it felt worth it. He was just happy to see Hashirama so elated. It made everything he had given up feel like it meant nothing.


	2. The Discontent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama and Madara learn that, in the four years since their first meeting at the pier, someone from their past has decided to reappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is minor drug use in this chapter. And I mean very minor...Madara smokes pot. I know, i know, but it really brings together his bad boy facade.  
> Also:There's a time-skip between chapter one and two of four years because nothing says friends to lovers like the woes of hormones and high school. Anyway, Hashirama and Madara are 16. Also, for those who are curious Tobirama and Izuna will be two years younger than their brothers throughout this story because we have no official ages for anyone...
> 
> “Every game threatens a wild card. The unpredictable, the out of control. Even with a steady hand and a crystal ball we couldn’t rule the world the way we wanted it. There are storms at sea and there are other storms inland.”  
> The Passion, Jeanette Winterson

Madara pressed an apple to his lips, looking down at his calculus book, pencil flicking in his left hand. Why he ever decided over-achieving was a good choice, was beyond him. He regretted doing his best in everything, which was almost too Uchiha of him, knowing he should have opted out so he could have more free time. He could have easily faked being stupid, or at least, stupid enough not to have a mountain of homework.

He looked up when he heard someone sit down across from him. Usually people didn’t brave the Uchiha glare, but, just from the loudness this person possessed, Madara knew it was the only person stupid enough to think his glare was cute. Hashirama.

The Senju let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced across the table at the Uchiha. Madara still had the apple pressed against his mouth. “God, you’re so boring, Madara. You’re doing homework, _during lunch_. It’s called ‘homework’ for a reason.”

“Obviously I don't want to do it at home.”

“Look at you, defying the man.” Hashirama teased, a goofy grin on his face. “No one will believe that delinquent attitude of yours with straight As.”

Madara tossed his pencil at Hashirama’s head. It hit him, graphite out, in the nose. “You switched lunches.”

“HA, of course. You’re such a loner, man. I couldn’t just leave you to do homework.” He rubbed the sore spot on his face, still smiling like a complete dork. Madara rolled his eyes.

“Such a great boyfriend you are.” Hashirama let out a bellowing laugh, causing people to turn to look at them. Madara’s eyebrow twitched; if people thought he was funny they’d definitely try to talk to him. He tossed his apple, frowning when it only, barely, hit Hashirama on his temple. He needed to practice, apparently. “Idiot.”

“Mito doesn’t care.”

Madara raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Well, then you’re a bigger idiot than you let on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Madara smirked. “Did she say she didn’t care or did you just assume, like an ass?” Hashirama avoided the Uchiha’s gaze. “Like I thought.”

“She knows we’re best friends.”

“Doesn’t mean she won’t be pissed at you and _me_.” Madara frowned. “That woman actually scares me, but only a tiny, little bit.”

Hashirama laughed again, still obnoxiously loud. “A little bit? No way, she’s demon. And she knows it too.”

“Then stop intentionally pissing her off.” Madara closed the book in front of him; he scowled at the still smiling Hashirama. “I know it’s an arranged marriage, but honestly, if you keep on like this, she’s going to end up killing you.”

“Aww, is this your way of saying you love me? That’s sweet.” Hashirama leaned across the table, grabbing Madara’s hands with his. “Once you get past the glaring, you’re the sweetest person.”

“You do realize my calculus book weighs significantly more than an apple, right?” Hashirama retreated, letting go the raven’s hands go.

“You know, that’s not the best way to take a compliment.” Hashirama laughed again. Madara bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. “Got a pack of cards?”

Madara rolled his eyes. “You know I do.” He rummaged through his backpack and set them on the table.

“Oh, oh, let’s play!”

The Uchiha shook his head, smiling briefly to himself. “Well, I’m not one to disappoint.” He pulled the cards out of their pack, shuffling them lazily. “What’s the game today?”

“Poker?”

“Sure.” Madara held the deck out to Hashirama, who started shuffling, just as a way to assure the Uchiha wasn’t cheating before they began. He was bad about it. But, as the Senju had learned many times, Madara loved winning. He spread the cards, looking for one in particular. Hashirama sent Madara an all too knowing look.

“We’re missing the King of Hearts.”

Madara leaned over the table. And in the most apathetic voice Hashirama had ever heard, Madara said, “Oh but look what’s behind your ear…” Madara pulled his hand back, presenting the missing card to the Senju. Hashirama was floored.

“Did you just do a fucking magic trick?”

“Modern day Houdini.”

Hashirama started laughing, so deafeningly and unattractively, Madara had never regretted a decision more. The Senju had tears in his eyes and his lungs were burning from the lack of air which was supposed to be flowing in. He leaned over the table, banging his hand down in a balled fist. “I’m going to piss myself.” Hashirama managed to choke out, coughing so hard that he continued to bang his fists on the table. Madara was frowning deeply, eyes scanning the room as it fell silent.

After a couple more fits of laughter, Hashirama straightened, still coughing occasionally. “Fuck, are you trying to kill me?”

“Obviously I’m not trying hard enough.”

“Where did that even come from?”

“When I was a kid I used to do that shit all the time for my cousins when I was dealing.” Madara shrugged his shoulders, cutting the deck. “I thought it would be fun, I was wrong.”

“I think I fell in love with you just then.” Hashirama sat back, smiling. “If things don’t work out with Mito, you and I are getting married.”

Madara snorted. “Okay, try explaining that to my arranged wife. ‘Oh sorry, you can’t marry Madara, he can do magic.’”

Hashirama smirked. “Well, no one wants to marry a closet magician anyway, deal breaker.”

“Be careful, Hashi, my next trick may very well be making my calculus book disappear up your ass.”

“Sounds horrifying, let’s play.” Hashirama bounced in his seat, like a child who was too excited about going to an amusement park. Hashirama reshuffled the cards, King of Hearts included this time, and dealt.

Madara peeked at his cards, holding back his frown when he saw the Jack of Spades and a Ten of the same suit. It was a bad omen for any Uchiha gambling to get this particular Jack their first hand. Madara would have no luck this game. It would all have to be card counting and as many tricks he could pull out at once, without Hashirama noticing.

“Hmmm, what should we bet?” Hashirama mused, looking down at his cards.

“I have cash.”

“I don’t need your money.”

“Oh, what a gentleman.”

Hashirama looked back down at his cards again, dealing three cards between them. Madara bit his cheek to keep from frowning. Two of Spades, King of Diamonds, and a Five of Clubs. If he was lucky, which Madara doubted he would be, he’d be able to get a straight. Hashirama tapped the table, checking. Not that either of them had technically made a bet yet.

“How about…” Madara began, leaning his face on his hand. “We don’t bet until it’s over. We can just promise each other stuff like favor or something, instead of money. And if we go ‘all in’, it’s a big favor.”

The Senju rolled his eyes. “As if you’re good about keeping your promises. You still owe me forty cones.” Madara swatted at him from across the table, Hashirama leaned out of the way, smirking to himself as he did so. But then, Hashirama nodded in consideration. He smiled suddenly. “Oh, then I can make you help me with math homework.” Madara’s face looked completely sour. He just had to draw the Jack of Spades this round. The Senju leaned in, eyeing Madara. “And you can’t make me promise to ‘go die’.”

Madara smiled innocently, fluttering his eyelashes. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Liar.”

“You in or not?”

“Oh hell yes. How could I say 'no' to the hijinx this could wrought?” 

“Okay, go for the Turn.” Madara perked up a little seeing that it was the Queen of Diamonds. He needed a Nine now and he’d have a straight. He nearly smirked as Hashirama looked at him, face set in a grim fashion. “Go for the River.”

Madara’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw the Nine of Clubs. Hashirama was frowning, setting down his cards. He had two pair. “I can tell, just from you face, you just won this one.” The Uchiha carefully showed his cards and Hashirama moaned in complaint. “Ah, man…”

“Hmm, what should I ask for?”

“A date?”

“Who would want to go on a date with an idiot like you?”

“Mito doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Arranged marriage.” Madara reminded, looking down at his cards. “Too bad you don’t live with me, I’d make you do my laundry.”

Hashirama barked out a laugh. “Laundry, really?”

“Whenever Izuna loses, that’s what I make him do. Or whatever other chores I don’t want to do. And he’s really shit at cards so he loses a lot. I don’t even have to cheat.”

“Well, I mean I can come over and do your laundry, don’t know how well it’ll go for me though.”

“You’d definitely get sniped as soon as you walked on my driveway, better keep you alive.”

“So what do you want then?”

Madara smirked, an evil expression coming onto his face. Hashirama felt a bead a sweat, slowly and coldly, drift down his neck. “Tell Mito that she’s ugly. And I wanna be there when you do it.”

“I’d rather take my chances doing your laundry.” Hashirama got a depressed aura, sinking slightly in his chair. “How does this count as a favor?”

Madara rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. What a baby. One date, I guess.”

Hashirama perked up. “Aw, you’re so kind Madara. I promise it’ll be great.”

“It better be worth not getting to see you being slapped to death by your fiancée.”

“Psh, she’d definitely just stab me and get it over with. She's not one for messes.”

They played a quick few hands. Madara frowned most of the time, especially when he had to promise Hashirama that he’d give him a ride home for the next two weeks. He was in a particularly sour mood, knowing his luck wouldn’t get much better from there and that there wasn’t much he could do to change it. Hashirama made sure to not let him near the deck to cheat. He was too clever for his own good, Madara glared his frustrations.

Hashirama put the used cards in a pile away from them, dealing another hand. Madara felt strange that the old Uchiha superstition didn’t come true, though. Usually, they were spot on. He was supposed to lose big, but he hadn’t yet.

He leaned back slightly, looking at his cards. Queen of Clubs, and the Jack of the same suit. Hashirama nodded his head, setting down the Flop. Madara raised an eyebrow. The Queen and Jack of Hearts, and Seven of Clubs. Madara’s brow furrowed. He already had two pair. His luck was definitely better than it should have been.

Hashirama set down the Turn and Madara bit back yet another smirk. The Queen of Diamonds; Full House. The Senju needed to have A Four of A Kind, which seemed unlikely because of the cards Madara had in hand. Either that or a Royal or Straight Flush would be the only hands able to beat Madara’s. There was no way that he could lose.

“I’m going all in.”

Madara nodded. “Feeling the luck, Hashi?”

“You bet I am.” He smiled at the Uchiha. “And here comes the River.” Hashirama set down an Ace of Hearts.

Madara set down his cards. “Full House.”

“Royal Flush.” The Uchiha tensed, looking across the table, eyes widening at the sight. The King of Hearts and the Ten sat innocently in front of Hashirama. “I think the luck felt me.” Madara shivered as a sudden coldness entered him, looking up at his companion, who was considering the favor thoughtfully.

He should have known that his luck in this round was nothing more than a fluke.

“Madara, I want your virginity.” The King of Hearts only gives his blessing to the bold.

Uchiha superstitions were never wrong.  
\---  

Madara pulled the joint from between his lips, his pointer finger and thumb grasping it tightly as he held in the smoke. Right after school, Madara had hurried to his Firebird, hoping to make a speedy get-away, but realization had struck him in place. He had been trying to avoid Hashirama for as much of the day as he could, until he remembered that he was supposed to be giving the Senju rides home for the next two weeks. His brow twitched. He mentally cursed his need to compete with Hashirama.

After what the idiotic teen said at lunch, Madara felt a strange sense of anxiety being around him. But he should have expected Hashirama to say something that stupid. Madara wasn’t blind; he had known for a while now that Hashirama’s feelings weren’t purely friendship. He, however, hadn’t particularly known that Hashirama had figured out his feelings yet, so the favor, if it could even be called that, surprised him. And because they lived in the world of cause and effect, Hashirama caused Madara to throw his calculus book at the idiot as a retaliation, effectively giving him a means of escaping.

The Uchiha shook his head, snuffing out the joint in his car’s ashtray, blowing the remaining smoke out the window. He leaned back in the driver’s seat, watching as Hashirama energetically said his goodbyes to Mito, who was looking over the Senju’s shoulder at Madara, glaring with the full fury of the Uzumaki family. He felt himself shiver. She was scarier than Hashirama gave her credit for.

Hashirama practically skipped over to Madara’s car, leaning into the window. “Will you let me drive?” Madara looked up, cocking an eyebrow.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

“That’s getting really old by now.”

“Then stop proving it to be true,” Madara said, with a triumphant smirk. “Now get in, or I will leave you.”

Hashirama huffed, running over to the passenger side and slamming the door behind him. Madara sent him a glare. Hashirama was running his hands over the leather seating, smiling brightly. “God, this is such a beauty.”

“That’s why I bought it.”

“You’re such an independent, Madara. So sexy.” Hashirama wagged his eyebrows at Madara. The Uchiha rolled his eyes.

Madara popped the clutch, putting the car in gear, and pulled out of the parking lot, glancing briefly out of the corner of his eye; Mito continued to watch them drive away. She had to know. Madara could feel it. Mito wasn’t stupid.

“Mito doesn’t like me.” Madara commented as he turned onto the main street.

Hashirama shook his head. “She’ll get over it.”

“She knows you want to fuck me.”

“I know.”

Madara turned his head towards Hashirama who was looking out the window. “What are you going to do about that, exactly?”

Hashirama laughed, patting Madara on the shoulder. “I don’t know; you’re the genius, not me.”  

“I have to pick up my brother.” Madara said, switching topics. He didn’t want to dwell on the awkwardness of Hashirama’s sudden sexual awakening. Especially since it was pointed towards him and not his arranged wife. Madara breathed out through his nose, annoyed.

“Meeting the family already? You must really love me.”

Madara ignored Hashirama’s comment. “There are some things you have to know about Izuna before sharing a confined space with him.”

“Is he going to try to stab me when he sees I’m in here?”

“Actually, I don’t know.” Madara said, thoughtfully. “He might.”

“You really know how to reassure me.”

“Homicide aside, Izuna isn’t going to be pleased to see that we’re together. He’s probably going to be a snarky brat, so it would just be best to ignore him. Also if he says anything that hurts your feelings, don’t get depressed like you usually do. It will only encourage him; Izuna is more merciless than I am.” Madara looked over at Hashirama as soon as they arrived at a stop light. “Also, don’t make any sudden movements or look directly at him.”

Hashirama laughed. “What? Is he a cat? Will he leap on my face?”

“You won’t be laughing if he digs his pocket knife into your neck.”

Hashirama was smiling. “He sounds scarier than you.”

“He’s fourteen; we’re all scary at that age.”

Hashirama kicked back in his seat, his feet on the dashboard. Madara sent another nasty glare to the Senju; he deflected it easily, becoming very used to the Uchiha intense stare. “I wonder if our brothers would get along.”

Madara chuckled, darkly under his breath. “Don’t hold out for a miracle. Izuna is so far up my father’s ass that all he sees is Uchiha bullshit.”

The Senju nodded his head, long brown hair falling forward as he made the motion. He watched the calmness of Madara’s features and how the shadows danced across his face as they drove. He couldn’t help but acknowledge how devastatingly attractive Madara was. Even just the Uchiha’s profile was unbelievably gorgeous to Hashirama. It was even in the smallest feature; the way the Uchiha’s lips curved gently when his face was resting, making his mouth look incredibly soft and kissable. Hashirama swallowed, hard. He reached out, fingers seeking Madara’s skin. The Uchiha watched from the corner of his eye as skin made contact with his own; the gentleness of the touch caught him off guard. It was barely the tips of Hashirama’s fingers caressing his cheek but it felt like a bolt of lightning had struck him. He shivered. “Can I kiss you?”

Madara felt the cold sweat from earlier return to him as he glanced over at Hashirama. He didn’t know why he felt nervous, but those butterflies in his stomach weren’t leaving. Emotions reared up and started to fight each other, making Madara feel more and more anxious as one seemingly settled above all others. His heart was beating hard in his chest; heat rushed to Madara’s face as he looked away. He had to do something. “Shut up; when you ask it makes you sounds desperate.”

Hashirama’s features fell as an aura of depression settled over him. He turned away from Madara, huddling up best he could in the seat of the car. Madara, feeling Hashirama’s sudden shift in mood, looked over, sighing at his friend’s quickness to melancholy. He leaned over, briefly, kissing Hashirama on the temple. Hashirama immediately perked up, turning to see if he could get the kiss he wanted from Madara but found the Uchiha completely focused on the road. But he couldn’t hide everything by keeping his face out of Hashirama’s direct line of sight; there was a faint pink to his cheeks that told Hashirama just enough. He smiled at the Uchiha, happiness bubbling up in his stomach.

“You like me!” Hashirama teased, playfully slapping Madara in the shoulder.

The Uchiha turned slowly, showing a grave look. “It’s just your imagination.”

Hashirama was taken aback, sputtering with indignation at the comment. His featured dropped again. “You’re so mean!”   

“We’re here.” Madara muttered, smirking to himself. Izuna was standing on the curb, nose in a book. He looked up when the car stopped in front of him and a frown broke out across his face, eyes darkening as he spied Hashirama sitting in the front seat. The Senju stepped out of the car, pushing the seat forward so the younger Uchiha could get in. He crossed his arms, still frowning. Madara leaned across the seat, glaring at his brother. “Get in, Izuna.”

“What the hell is he doing here?”

“Izuna, get in or I will leave you here.”

“Is that your threat of the day?” Hashirama asked, smiling widely at the older Uchiha. Madara didn’t look amused.

Izuna huffed, uncrossing his arms as he glared at Hashirama, slinking into the backseat. He made sure to kick the back of Madara’s seat as he settled, knowing it would bother the older Uchiha all the more.

“Oh hey! Tobirama! Come here!” Hashirama flagged his brother down as he walked through the exit of the school. He raised an eyebrow before coming towards his brother.

“Here we go…” Madara muttered under his breath.

Tobirama and Izuna locked glanced, both not bothering to hide their disdain from each other. Izuna looked away first and Tobirama lifted his head, showing a hateful glance towards his idiotic older brother. “What are you doing?”

“Madara is giving us a ride home. Don’t complain.”

Tobirama looked into the back seat again, seeing that he would be sitting with Izuna. “No.”

“Fine, take a walk then.”

Tobirama’s fists clenched as he pushed Hashirama out of the way and shoved into the back seat, making sure to elbow Izuna as he got in. The two of them glared at each other, Izuna making sure he scooted over all the way towards the driver’s side to keep himself from even breathing Tobirama’s air. “You’re playing with fire, stupid.”

“Hn, so it isn’t just me who thinks that.” Madara commented as Hashirama slid back into the passenger seat, frowning.

“Don’t start ganging up on me.” Hashirama laughed. “Don’t worry, Tobirama. We’re just getting a ride home.”

“They’re Uchihas.”

“I’m not going to kill someone inside _my_ car.” Madara looked at Tobirama through the rear view mirror. “Blood would make the interior sticky; that’s just impractical.” The younger Senju huffed. Izuna and Tobirama shared equally annoyed looks, both their arms crossed, both looking different ways, their posture was defensive.

“How did this even happen?” Izuna asked, trying to force himself to relax. He tried to focus on his brother but kept warily taking glances at Tobirama.

“I lost at cards.” Madara replied, shaking his head. He pulled away from the school parking lot and flicked on his turn signal.

“You what? How is that possible?” Izuna’s face was startled as he leaned into the front, grabbing onto the front seat for leverage.

“Izuna, seatbelt.” Madara shook his head as Izuna pulled back, but opted out of buckling himself in. He was frowning again as though Madara had physically forced him to sit closer to Tobirama. “Jack of Spades.”

“Of course.”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Hashirama asked, leaned back in his seat. He pulled the lever on the side and brought it back farther, smashing it into Tobirama’s knees. The younger Senju wedged Hashirama’s hair between his knee and the leather, pulling it slowly. “Ow.” Hashirama corrected his seat with a pout.

Madara rolled his eyes. “It’s Uchiha superstition.” In unison, Madara and Izuna both nodded. “They always come true.”

Izuna nodded to confirm. “Always.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Tobirama commented, glaring at the back of Madara’s head.

Hashirama turned around in his seat. “Don’t knock people’s beliefs just because they’re not yours.” 

“Yeah, shithead. Maybe there’s a reason Uchihas a-“

“Brake check.” Madara announced, cutting Izuna off by making him slam into the driver’s seat. “Izuna, for God’s sake, put on your fucking seatbelt.”

“You did that on purpose!” Izuna yelled, leaning forward into the front seat, glaring hatefully at Madara. Izuna had a large red mark spanning from his forehead down to his chin, his nose the darkest and angriest red area on his face. The older Uchiha was smirking, betraying the innocent batting of his eyes. Hashirama was chuckling next to him.

“Hn, too bad you didn’t break your nose.”

“Why would you do that?!” The younger Uchiha grabbed a fist full of Madara’s jacket, eyes wide with his own fury.

“Because I don’t want you to start shit in my car.”

“So you smashed _my_ face?”

“Looks like you should have put on your seatbelt.” Madara smirked and Izuna frowned, flushing slightly. He sat back in his seat, huffing and looking out the window.

“Madara.”

Taking a deep breath, annoyance threatening to make the Uchiha explode, Madara turned his head. “What now?”

“We got a problem.” Madara followed Hashirama’s gaze up to his rear view mirror and noticed a car, all black, behind his own, following incredibly closely. He sped up slightly, watching as the car sped up to match him, as if to tail him.

“Those are not Uchihas.” Madara muttered. “How long?”

Hashirama started reaching for something in his pocket. He frowned when he didn’t find it. “From the High School. I thought they stopped when we picked up our brothers but apparently not.”

“Could be a coincidence, but let’s make sure.” Madara turned quickly, catching everyone off-guard. Izuna nearly fell into Tobirama as Madara sped up even more, whipping around other cars, watching for the men to appear. And sure enough, they were following him, trying to keep pace and driving just as crazy as Madara. “Fuck.”

Hashirama was secured against the door, trying to brace himself for the constant shifting in speed and motion of the car. “Do you have a gun?” He called, breaking Madara’s focus. The Uchiha frowned and Hashirama let out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t, do you?”

“Not exactly my weapon of choice.” Madara shot him a glance. “Where’s yours?”

“At home…”

“Of course.”

A blare of a siren cut through the air and Madara swore under his breath. “Oh, come on.” Before Madara even had time to consider pulling over, the black car rammed into the cop car’s side, knocking it into oncoming traffic, effectively ending the police’s pursuit. Hashirama and Madara shared a wide-eyed stare, both unbelieving of what they just saw. This was more serious than they thought. “Shit. Hashi, we need to do something.”

Hashirama nodded. “I don’t think they’ll stop following us.”

“This is seriously killing my day.” Madara’s face was set, hard and cold. He made one final turn, pulling into an alleyway. “Hashirama, it’s time to end this.” Madara opened up his glove box and pulled out a pouch. He clipped it into his belt and nodded to the Senju next to him. Together, Madara and Hashirama exited the car, shutting the doors before their brothers could follow them out.

“MADARA!” Izuna’s eyes were wide.

“Don’t go out there alone, idiots!” Tobirama yelled, reaching around the front seat to pull it forward.

“Wait in the car, Izuna.”  

“You too, Tobirama.” Both of them paused, eyes wide. They looked at each other, unknowing of what they could do but obey.

The younger Uchiha and Senju turned in their seats watching as their brothers went to the back of the car, waiting for whoever was following to come out. Madara was slipping black leather gloves onto his hands as he waited, eyes shining with fury. He reached into the pouch at his side. “I assume you have no weapons besides your fist.”

“You’d be right.” The car stopped at the opening of the alley, not even bothering to turn off their car as they poured out of it. “Not even a knife.”

“Leave the knife work to me.” Madara looked at Hashirama coolly, handing him a set of brass knuckles from his pouch. “Here. You have more brawn that me anyway.” He slipped them onto his hands, flexing them as he watched the men creep closer. There were four of them, all wearing dark colors, heavily muscled. Neither of Madara or Hashirama recognized the men, but they could tell, at the very least, they were small time thugs. One of them was bouncing a bat off the ground. Madara knew one of them had to have a concealed weapon with them, most likely a gun or a knife.

“Well, well, rats caught in a trap.” The other three laughed, and the seeming-to-be leader stepped forward, slowly closing the distance between the six of them. “I thought you were supposed to be the kids of mob bosses. They don’t look too scary, do they boys?” They all hooted and hollered, the one with the bat holding it up in the air. Their leader reached down at his hip; Madara didn’t doubt it was for a gun.

The Uchiha smirked, stepping slowly forward. He knew his first target. “We’ll have to change our image then, won’t we?”

In the blink of an eye, Madara flicked his wrist sending a wave of throwing knives forward. The leader only stared in awe as the blades sailed down and sunk into him. The gun fell from his hand and clattered underneath their car, putting it far out of reach. Their leader let out a gurgled wail, muffled by the honking and sounds of traffic. His neck burst with blood; Madara and Hashirama rushed forward, taking advantage of the distraction. Hashirama hurled himself at the man with a bat, busting open his nose with a well landed punch. The bat was thrown out of his grip as he fell backwards, heading smashing into the hood of their car. Hashirama jumped on him, raining blows across his face and temples, smearing every hit with blood.

Madara ducked out of a poorly aimed punch, sending the knife he had in his hand into the man’s rib cage, causing him to reel backwards, giving Madara enough space to throw a different blade into his head. It hit him in the eye, pushing all the way in; the hilt was the only element of the knife that was still visible. He hit the ground heavily, no longer moving, not even twitching. Madara turned, hearing Hashirama cry out. One of the other men had grabbed the bat and was bringing hard swings down across the Senju’s back. Hashirama rolled away from one of them, causing the thug to smash his friend’s skull in; puddles of black-ish blood and bone spilling out of the wound. The thug turned, eyes violently scanning for Hashirama’s figure.

The Uchiha’s eyes narrowed as he ran forward, leaping onto the man’s back, digging a knife into his shoulder and holding on for dear life as the man screamed, thrashing around like a wild animal. The bat hit the ground with a loud clank as he reached up, grabbing at Madara’s arms and trying to pull him off. The Uchiha brought the knife down again, getting slammed back into the wall of the alleyway as he continued to thrust the blade in and in again. The thug slammed into him one more time, hard enough for Madara to hit his head against the brick behind him. He faltered slightly, falling off, but onto his feet. His vision blurred slightly from the blow and Madara wobbled on his feet. The man reached out, trying to grab for his neck. “You motherfucker!” The tips of his fingers brushed against his neck, Madara’s eyes widening with every moment passing. He reached into his pouch, scrambling for another knife.

Hashirama pulled the man away by the back of his shirt, yanking him so hard that he lost his balance. Madara sighed with relief when he felt no fingers creeping around his throat.

The thug tripped all over himself as Hashirama led him to a dumpster, slamming him into the metal outside as he struggled to get away from the Senju. Madara threw two knives, hitting the thug in the knees, quickly causing him to turn boneless as shock ran through him. Hashirama grabbed the lid of the dumpster, using the surprise to slam the thug’s head, quickly ending all plans of escaping. He smashed the lid down repeatedly, staining the front of the dumpster with a steady stream of blood. After a moment of Hashirama let the lid slap down on him, permanently, watching as his body slumped, heavily to the ground.

Madara and Hashirama looked at each other, panting harshly. “MADARA!” The Uchiha whipped his head towards Izuna’s cry. The smaller Uchiha was pointing towards the other car. Hashirama and Madara both looked when the thugs’ car suddenly threw itself in reverse and whipped out of the alleyway. Both Hashirama and Madara rushed back to the Firebird, throwing themselves in before Madara slammed his foot into the gas peddle, exiting the scene as quickly as they could. Madara was driving with one hand, peeling his gloves off and shoving them into the glove box.

“Shit…” When he heard no sirens nor saw any police cars rushing by, Madara slowed his vehicles, letting out a long sigh.

Hashirama started chuckling, shaking his head. Madara began to as well, both of them looking at each other. Aside form having a few cuts and bruises on their bodies, they would be more than fine, which they could not say about their enemies. 

“Awesome.” Izuna muttered, slightly in disbelief. “Aniki, you’re so rad.” Madara smirked widely, the rush of adrenaline still not completely passed.

“What about me?” Hashirama complained.

“Eh, you were a litlle sloppy.” Tobirama said, flatly.

“Not even my brother thinks I’m cool.” Hashirama huddled up on the seat, a depressed feeling welling up in the car.

Madara chuckled haughtily, smirking over at the Senju next to him. “The finesse of murder is a true mastery of skill, Hashi."

“Did you know who that was?” Izuna asked. “I didn’t recognize them.”

Hashirama seemingly pulled himself out of his funk and sent a look over at the Uchiha beside him. Madara shrugged. “Never seen them before in my life.” He said, shaking his head. “But, they knew who we were.”  
\--

“So, like, should we be worried?” Izuna said as he popped a straw out of its wrapper. He shot it at Madara, who, without even blinking, caught the paper and threw it onto the table. The older Uchiha frowned.

“About what?” Madara asked, wiping his hands on a napkin. After the ordeal, Hashirama decided they needed to celebrate their victory with dinner. Madara was not opposed to this idea because he was starting to get incredibly hungry from when he smoked earlier. Izuna and Tobirama didn’t really seem to care. But Madara knew better than to believe Izuna’s indifferent attitude about the matter. He knew Izuna was more than excited about food. He was at that awkward stage of development where he ate everything he could get his hands on. 

“Um, because of the fact you and Hashirama had to kill four dudes. Dudes we didn’t even know.”

Madara and Hashirama shared a look. “Well, considering Madara has to give us rides home for the next two weeks, I don’t think it’ll will be a problem.” The Senju said with a shrug. “It could have been a one time issue for all we know.”    

“Has your father pissed off anyone recently?” Madara asked, picking up a fry from his plate.

“Probably.”

“Ours too, undoubtedly.”

“So what are you thinking?”

Madara nibbled on his lip, grabbing his mug of coffee, taking a sip. He had been mulling it over for the past hour and couldn’t clearly come to any conclusion that fully satisfied him. He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hand. “I honestly couldn’t tell you. It could be anyone our fathers have messed with, it could be guys out for street cred, hell, for all we know, it could be shitty hired professionals. The only thing we know is that they wanted us,” Madara pointed to himself and Hashirama, “for whatever reason, to fight them. It could have even been someone _we_ pissed off.”

“I haven’t really started doing professional missions for the family, yet.” Hashirama shrugged. “But you’re right either way.”

Izuna slurped down the rest of his milkshake obnoxiously, smiling as he did so. Madara glanced over, smiling lightly at his little brother. Hashirama didn’t miss it. He saw the loving and adoring glimmer on the older Uchiha’s face. It made Madara look composed, relaxed, and even more beautiful than normal. Love made him glow. Hashirama wanted to inspire the same kind of reaction whenever Madara looked at him. “Izuna, you pig, slow down.” Madara sneered, rolling his eyes. Hashirama bit back the urge to laugh at how quickly Madara changed moods, trying to cover any crack in his emotionless, pragmatic armor.

The younger Uchiha held his head. “Too late. Brain freeze….”

Hashirama got up suddenly. Madara looked up, following the Senju’s movements. “Be right back, bathroom.”

“Keep your comments to yourself.” Madara replied apathetically.

Once the three of them were alone, Tobirama looked straight into Madara’s face. Their eyes met and they both held each other’s stare for a time, neither saying anything. “Thank you.”

Madara blinked. “For what?”

“Protecting my idiot brother in that fight.” He replied, folding his arms across his chest. “If you weren’t there, he could have easily died.”

“Don’t mention it, he saved my ass too.” The Uchiha said with a shrug. Madara sipped on his coffee. “Hard to believe, I’m sure, but Hashirama and I are friends. And he’s important to me, I will protect him too, if I can.”

Tobirama nodded and they shared another look between them, reaching a ground of understanding. Izuna looked at them, shifting between their faces and munching on the remainder of his fries. “I was glad Hashirama was there for you too. A four on one fight would have been messy.”

Madara shrugged. “It’s all about strategy. Look for the person who’s the biggest threat, take them out first. Take advantage of the shock, and bam, it’s over. While I’ll say it’s not always that simple, it generally tends to work out that way.”

“I’ll be just as good as you one day, Aniki.” Izuna said, smirking up at his brother. “Maybe even better.”

“Let’s hope it never comes to that.” Madara said, rubbing his temples.

“Did the waitress ever bring us the check?” The three of them turned to see Hashirama walking up to their booth. He slid into the seat next to Tobirama.

Madara shook his head. He looked around the restaurant, attempting to catch a glance of their waitress “She hasn’t been around for…” His eyes slowly started to widen. The group tried to follow Madara’s gaze, trying to see what had shocked the older Uchiha.

“What? Aniki, what is it?” Izuna turned to follow his gaze but couldn’t understand what had made his brother go so white and still.

“Hashirama?” The older Senju too was stunned, completely still as if he was enraptured by some kind of apparition.

A woman with long red hair quietly approached their table, her lips were bright with dark red lipstick as if she had been painting them with blood. Izuna felt a chill run down his spine when he made eye contact with this woman. The whites took up her entire eye, but she could seemingly see them all. A cold aura engulfed the table as she leaned forward, smiling at them. “My, my, you two have changed so much in, what? Four, five years? Do you remember me?” Hashirama and Madara said nothing, briefly exchanging a glance between themselves. Madara’s arms broke out in goosebumps. She laughed gently, putting a hand on Izuna’s shoulder. A flash of anger washed across Madara’s face, but the woman turned her head, using her free hand to grab the older Uchiha’s face between her fingers. “Now, now, no need for violence, children.” She started to squeeze, holding Madara firmly in place.

Hashirama reached out, grabbing onto her arm. He glared up at her. “Then, please, continue.” His voice was toneless, but his face betrayed the calmness of his voice. She let go of Madara’s face, pulling her arm easily out of Hashirama’s grip.

“It seems you’re the more reasonable of the two.” She praised, running her hand down Hashirama’s cheek. It took almost all of Hashirama’s self-control not to twitch away from the coldness of her skin. “I just wanted to tell you boys that I was very impressed with your show today. I think you’ve earned a free meal, on me. My sweet, sweet boys.” She turned on her heel, but then stopped before she could reach to entrance. “Oh goodness, I forgot.” She looked over her shoulder at Madara and Hashirama, smiling brightly at them. “My name is Kaguya. I hope to see you boys again, real soon.”  
\---

The ride to the Senju household was dead silent. No one had said a word since leaving the diner. Hashirama was looking out the window, the chill that Kaguya woman possessed hadn’t quite left him yet. There was something off about her, he didn’t know what it was, but it was there. It wasn’t just how ghostly and terrifying her physical presence was. It was something else. Hashirama could feel that she was toying with them, obviously being the one who sent those men after them. But he didn’t believe for a second that it would end there. This woman had taken an interest in him and Madara, for what reason, however, Hashirama couldn’t say.

Madara pulled up on the curb near the Senju manor, wordlessly looking over at the Senju. Hashirama and the Uchiha locked gazes. “Tomorrow.” Hashirama said. Madara nodded, knowing exactly what those words implied. Tomorrow they would figure out everything they needed to, together.

Hashirama and Tobirama exited the car, not saying anything more than that. Izuna slipped into the front seat, glancing over at the hardened profile of his brother. He bit his lip. “So, are we not going to talk about this?”

Madara began to drive, breathing through his nose. “I don’t exactly know what to say about it.”

“But you’re going to talk with Hashirama about it, right? Why can’t you let me know too?” Madara was silent, shaking his head. “Come on, Aniki, you can’t leave me in the dark about this!”

“Don’t tell father.” Madara’s tone was calm, but when he looked over his red eyes were shining with a sternness that made Izuna’s back straighten. “If it will calm you, I will speak with father about this matter. I want him to hear it from _me_ , understand?”     

“Of course…”

“Good.”

“How did she know you…? She seemed so…” Izuna trailed off, fighting to find the right word. “I want to say familiar with you, but she had to introduce herself.”

Madara wetted his lips, gnawing on his bottom one as he watched the road. He had also been thinking about what Kaguya had said to them. She acted as if she knew himself and Hashirama for a very long time, and while four years is a bit of time, it had passed between meetings. Though, she spoke as if she had watched them all along. It was more than disconcerting. “I do not know how to properly answer that question, Otouto.” Madara merged into a different lane, heading towards the bridge which fed back into the Uchiha territory. “Do you remember a few years ago when father made you spy on me?”

Izuna flushed at the choice of words. “Yes…”

“It was then. The meeting afterwards when I disobeyed father and went to see Hashirama again.”  Madara glanced over at Izuna. “She was there when father was going to kill Hashirama and Butsuma. She stopped them…”

“So, who is she then?”

“I believe that is the question of the day…”

The rest of the drive was silent. Madara was lost in his own train of thoughts, not understanding why this woman would suddenly resurface just to test them after all this time. There was no real reason to do so. Because her jurisdiction was the neutral zone and not somewhere else, it wasn’t like she could potentially scout them for different factions of their families’ business.

When they arrived at the Uchiha manor, Izuna followed after Madara, who hadn’t stopped nursing his bottom lip for almost fifteen minutes. “Aniki, are you alright?” Madara turned towards Izuna, pausing with his key in the lock.

“Yes. I’m fine, Izuna. Don’t worry about it, I’m just…” Madara unlocked the door, opening it and stepping through the archway. “Trying to figure things out.”

“Remember to talk to father.”

The older Uchiha nodded his head. “I know.”

Madara walked through the house, which was a roar with life on the inside. His cousins were all gathered around in the living room, laughing obnoxiously and clinking bottles together. Izuna went in to join them and Madara hoped it would be enough for Izuna to forget about what had happened. At least for the night.

He walked through the hallway, cutting through the kitchen, ignoring the complaints from the cooks about being late as he made his way to his father’s office. Ascending the stairs, Madara felt his heart beat quicken, unsure of what light his father could actually shed on his currently situation. He would lie to him, of course. If Madara implied that he was any form of danger, his father would cut him off from the world, lock him up to rot in the house. He couldn’t have that. He was too old and too well trained to be treated as if he was a fragile figurine unable to withstand a single fall.

The Uchiha knocked on the door, waiting for the grunt of acknowledgement before entering. As he did, he bowed to his father, who was looking down at some documents on his desk. Tajima looked up, folding his hands in a very business-like manner. “Madara.”

“Father.”

“You returned awfully late.”

“I wanted to spend some time with Izuna.” Madara lied right through his teeth. He folded his arms across his chest as he watched his father’s face. Even just a spec of suspicion would bust this lie right open; he needed to be careful. “He’s complained lately that we don’t get to do as much together as we used to. I was indulging him, forgive me.”

Tajima waved his hand. “I know how important he is to you, I understand.” The older Uchiha stood from his desk, planting himself in front of the fireplace. The shadows created by the flames engulfed Tajima’s face in darkness. Madara resisted the urge to frown. It would be harder to read him now. “But that’s not why you’re here, yes?”

“When I was in town, I…”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember that woman from the pier? It was a few years ago…I saw her again today and I was curious about her.”

Tajima’s stance got defensive, taking long strides so that he was only about a meter away from Madara. “Did she approach or say anything to you?”

“No.” Madara watched his father’s face and relief flashed into it for a brief moment before he turned away.

“Madara, never mention that woman in my presence again.”

Madara blinked, bewildered by his father’s sudden harshness. He knew he would get no answer this way and turned towards the door. “Forgive me, I didn’t know.”

“It’s better that you don’t.”

On his way out, the Uchiha bowed to Tajima, saying nothing more. Madara closed the door behind him, chewing the inside of his lip as he headed back towards his room. Tomorrow, he would speak with Hashirama about this sudden Uchiha silence. Tomorrow, they could begin to figure out the mystery shrouding that woman he met on the pier four years ago.  
\---

Madara sat, hands folded together at his usual table for lunch. He hadn’t been able to focus on anything today, too far caught up in his own head to really think about anything else. His father had been a dead end; Madara should have known better. His father was far too caught up in himself and family matters to focus specifically on Madara’s seemingly small problems and question. However, Madara knew, he had lied to his father about what had actually happened, not exactly inspiring a reveal of information. But he had to lie, conceal whatever was really happening. His father had made it clear that at the first sign of trouble, Madara would never be trusted to do anything on his own again. Being able to go to public school, a first in the Uchiha family, was a liberty granted to both Madara and Izuna, with certain conditions attached to it. If his father found out anything, the plug would be pulled.

He looked up when he heard Hashirama plop down in the chair across from him. Madara was about to open his mouth when he saw someone move from behind Hashirama, sitting down next to him. Mito. Her red hair was tied up tightly, face apathetic as she briefly glanced at Madara’s face. The Uchiha’s eyes narrowed, glaring at Hashirama. He looked away, trying to ignore the piercing glance from his friend. Madara turned his face back to Mito. “Is everyone going to change lunch to sit with me?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself.” Mito replied, sending a pointed, heated glance at Madara. “I wanted to spend time with Hashirama.”

“Why would anyone want that?” Madara said, annoyed that Hashirama’s wife was cutting into their discussion time. He doubted they’d be able to say anything with her around. Hashirama sat tight-lipped, a pleading look in his eyes as he stared into the Uchiha’s face. Madara looked away from him, blankly keeping eye contact with invading red head.

“Yes, why indeed.” Mito’s face changed. She smirked at Madara, raising one eyebrow. Her glance was pointed, knowing. Madara frowned, running a hand through his hair.

“If you want to spend time with Hashirama, go do it somewhere else.”

Mito smiled, her teeth dazzlingly white. “Oh, but Madara, you’re Hashirama’s best friend. We need to spend time together too, so there’s never any hard feelings between us. Especially because most of Hashirama’s time is devoted to me.”

It was a brag, Madara knew, and he wouldn’t let himself become so easily entangled in it. He wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve. But he felt it. The pang that shot out of his heart and hit around all of his organs, making him feel sick. Jealousy; slowly and methodically wrapping its cold hands around him. It was somewhere between love and hatred, God and the Devil. And it was moving into him, making him viciously passionate about Hashirama and himself. 

Many words were born and died on his tongue in that moment and afraid he would get caught up in something he would regret, Madara stood up. “I don’t want to get in the way of you two lovers. Excuse me.” Mito was smirking as Madara grabbed his things and started to walk away.

Hashirama felt his heart throb, watching silently as Madara’s back got smaller and smaller as he walked away. He bit the inside of his cheek. Hashirama quickly got up, running after Madara. The Uchiha didn’t stop when he heard his name called, refusing to play in this game. He was about to head into the library when Hashirama grabbed onto the back of his jacket, tugging it hard. The Uchiha stumbled slightly, back stepping to account for his balance. He turned, glaring with the full force of the Uchiha family into Hashirama’s face. “No.” He said simply.

“Madara, please. I’m sorry.”

“No, see Hashirama, you can’t be sorry because it’s not _your_ fault your wife is a horrifying she-bitch. You can’t apologize for her.” The Uchiha turned away from Hashirama, going for the door of the library a second time.

“Don’t be jealous.” Madara paused, his eyes widening as his hand stilled. His body felt trapped, stuck in a moment where those words were actually said aloud to him, a moment where his body felt unbelievably warm with the embarrassing implications, but his mind was screaming at the sheer stupidity of it all. Hashirama reached out again, grabbing Madara’s free wrist and pulling on it, trying to bring the Uchiha away from his isolation. “Please don’t leave me.”

Hashirama’s words were softly spoken and Madara’s heart beat shot up a few notches. The warm, soothing smoothness of Hashirama’s palm against his wrist was becoming overwhelming as his heart overflowed with emotions; things he wished to keep buried. Begrudgingly, Madara turned around. “I-“

“I want you.” Hashirama cut Madara off and the Uchiha trembled, just slightly, at the words. “Not anyone else, you.”

“Don’t say stupid things like that, I-“

“Why? Because you feel this too? I know you do.” The grip on Madara’s wrist increased. “It’s confusing, all of these feelings. They’re new and weird, but more importantly they’re overwhelming. I realized just how badly yesterday. When that guy tried to put his filthy hand around your thro-“ Hashirama cut himself off. Madara could feel the shaking of the Senju’s hand around his wrist. “Just, please, bear with it. For me.”

Madara felt a flushing in his face and looked away, unwilling to show his own weakness to the Senju in front of him. The Uchiha knew all of these feelings inside of him, the ones spilling and the ones being suppressed by his child-like glee that Hashirama was with _him_ , not Mito, spilling his guts about being overwhelmed and vulnerable.

The Uchiha pulled his wrist free, sighing to himself. “I guess it can’t be helped.”

Hashirama’s face burst wide with a smile, eyes brightening with a bubbling happiness. “Can I kiss you?”

Madara blinked, anger, for some reason, pushing out all of his other previously happy emotions at the stupidity of Hashirama’s request. “Don’t ask, you desperate fool.” Madara pushed past him, heading back to the table where Mito was sitting.

She may have Hashirama’s on the surface, living an arranged life with him, but Madara had something more. He had Hashirama’s feeling revolving around him and nothing else. He was more than just a piece of candy to be dangled for the family to eat up, he was everything to Hashirama. Madara smirked widely as he sat down, looking into Mito’s unamused face. He was more important than her; he always would be.


	3. The Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Complications arise on Madara and Hashirama's date night when someone breaks into the Senju house. Who is this person? And why are they looking through Kaguya's file?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Those who set sail know that things will not be the same as at home. Explorers are prepared. But for us, who travel along the blood vessels, who come to the cities of the interior by chance, there is no preparation…Somewhere between God and the Devil passion is and the way there is sudden and the way back is worse.” The Passion, Jeanette Winterson

Madara took a swig of the beer in his hand, watching the doorway as Hashirama came back from the front door with pizza in hand. He smirked as the Senju placed the hot food on the counter, smiling softly at the Uchiha. “So this is your idea of a date, is it?”

“Oh what were you expecting?” Hashirama fired back. “Knowing you as well as I do, you’d be too weirded out if we went out for dinner and a movie. I felt like you’d be far more comfortable if we stayed in, and lo, the lord said let the other Senjus go on a business trip.”

“Why didn’t you go? Isn’t that suspicious?” Madara chugged the remainder of his beer, setting the bottle by the sink.

Hashirama pulled out a slice, blowing on it before taking a bite. “No, not really. I’m in high school so taking a week off would put me seriously behind. My father understands that.” Hashirama finished off the slice before speaking up again. “It’s a lot different than Tobirama; he could probably miss a month and still be able to pass.”

Madara hopped off the counter, grabbing another beer for himself from the refrigerator. Hashirama cleared his throat, making a groping motion with his hand. Madara rolled his eyes, reaching for a second bottle.

Instead of taking the bottle opener from the counter, Madara popped the top off his beer with the other bottle. He handed Hashirama the closed beer, smirking to himself. Hashirama laughed softly. “You really know how to treat your man, Madara.”

The Uchiha smirked fully this time, looking the Senju straight in the face. Arrogance and superiority written across his countenance. “You wouldn’t like me if I was nice.”

Hashirama smiled again, opening his beer against the counter. “I think you’re plenty nice. Even when you call me stupid, I know it comes from the heart.”

Madara rolled his eyes. “Don’t take insults as compliments, dumb ass.”

“See, there it is. Your true feelings.” Hashirama grabbed Madara’s hand, kissing each knuckle. 

Madara took a large gulp on his beer before putting it on the counter, slightly damp fingers brushed against Hashirama’s face. He leaned into the touch, breath hot against Madara’s palm. He looked into the ruddy depths of the Uchiha’s eyes and moved closer. Gently, fingers shaking as he did so, Hashirama leaned into the Uchiha’s space, bringing their lips together. “You’re actually going to kiss me with beer and pizza breath, aren’t you?” Hashirama paused, being shoved slightly by Madara. The Uchiha smirked in his face, sparkling with his own haughtiness.

“That was the plan, yes.” Hashirama muttered, looking down at the rosy, pinkness of Madara’s smooth lips.

The Uchiha chuckled. “What makes you think I wanna kiss you?”

“Well, there is that whole bet we made where you promised me something special of yours. So I mean, kissing is a good lead up to that.” Madara glared at the Senju, eyes burning with unspoken distaste. Hashirama smirked at him, feeling victorious. “Besides, weren’t you the one who complained not to ask?”  

“You’re honestly serious about that, aren’t you? Where is your sense of romance?” Madara complained, pinching the hand on his shoulder.

“B-but, Madara! You’re so bad about keeping your promises!” Hashirama surrounded himself with a depressed aura and the Uchiha looked away from the scene, feeling a faint blush coming over his face. He walked up to the Senju, grabbing him by the front of the shirt and placing his mouth against Hashirama’s. The Senju’s eyes widened considerably before he grabbed the back of Madara’s neck, not allowing him to pull back. Madara gently flattened his palm against the Senju’s chest, moving it up slowly so that he could wrap his fingers around the back of Hashirama’s neck, tangling his fingers in the long, soft hair he found there. Hashirama pushed them back, making Madara back connect to the counter. Hashirama, Madara noticed, was being considerably more aggressive than he planned. Trying to keep the Senju in check, Madara bit down teasingly on Hashirama’s lip, pulling it and rolling it between his teeth. This only encouraged the Senju more as he grabbed underneath Madara’s legs, hoisting him up onto the counter. He pushed himself between Madara’s now open legs, nearly forcing the Uchiha to lay down on the counter while Hashirama continued to move against him.

“Hashi-“ Hashirama dipped his tongue into the Uchiha’s open mouth, deepening their kiss considerably. Madara felt his heart thumping in his ears, his body trembling from his lack of control as he continued to kiss Hashirama. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t feeling good, quite the opposite, but he was feeling the coil of nervousness about to snap in his gut. Madara knew that he had promised Hashirama that they would have sex, but the thought of actually doing the deed made his entire body shiver. And not in the good way.

“Madara.” The Uchiha shuddered against the Senju, the sound of Hashirama’s voice desperate and pleading, saying his name like it was a prayer. “Madara.” Giving Madara a small reprieve before sinking back into him, Hashirama began to tentatively touch the Uchiha beneath him. His tongue invading and tasting the spicy, yet sweet tang of Madara’s mouth and lips. Just the feeling of Madara’s jeans on his sweating palms made his heart beat jump considerably. Madara’s hand tightened around the small hairs at the back of Hashirama’s neck, pulling invariably. Hashirama felt a surge of pleasurable electricity down his back every single time. The heat pooled heavily in his groin and he thrusted forward, rubbing right into Madara. The Uchiha jolted, his moans swallowed up by Hashirama’s greedy mouth.

“Hashirama,” The Senju didn’t stop, continuing to thrust forwards, grinding into Madara. The Uchiha groaned both in frustration and bliss. Attaching his mouth to Madara’s neck and breathing in that luscious scent, Hashirama kissed and sucked, feeling swept away by his own needs and passion. Hashirama moaned, tickling the skin of the Uchiha’s neck with the softness of breath and teasing his ears with the sounds of Hashirama’s pleasure. “Hashirama, wait. Stop.”

The forceful nature of Madara’s tone made the Senju snap out of the hole in his mind, bringing him back into the moment. He looked up at the flushed cheeks and the bead of sweat trickling down the Uchiha’s face. He was mesmerized by the disheveled look of Madara, his hands tightening on Madara’s hips and noticing something for the first time. He looked to the side, eyes flashing between the Uchiha’s face which was getting more and more annoyed with every second, and the spilled beer he was currently making Madara sit in. Sheepishly, the goofiest grin spread across Hashirama’s face. “Um, I’m sorry?”

Grabbing onto the Senju’s cheek and pinching as hard as he could, Madara’s glared the thoughtless teen down, unable to hold back his annoyance. It was just getting good and Hashirama’s clumsiness completely ruined the moment. “It’s because you’re too forceful. You broke the mood, Hashi, you idiot.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Madara let go of the Senju’s face, looking away from him, another dark blush staining his cheeks.

“Can I borrow something?”  
\---

Hashirama felt as though God was testing him as he watched Madara throw the beer soaked clothes into his washing machine. He was currently wearing the only thing of Hashirama’s that actually fit him and it was something old, from nearly a year ago, before he hit his smaller growth spurt. It was a little tight but apparently Madara preferred it to the slew of baggy clothes Hashirama had offered. It hugged Madara in all the right places, and that made the Senju watch with anticipatory hunger. The way his ass curved and how his lean back displayed a playground of tight, yet lithe muscle. Hashirama felt the heat of their earlier encounter again.

“You want to make me the bottom, don’t you?” Hashirama snapped out of his sight-seeing trip to look at the face of the Uchiha who was closing the washer top, leaning his back against it.

“Well, one of us has to do it.”

“But _why_ does it have to be _me_?”

Feeling his mind stopping, Hashirama blurted out. “Because I’m taller than you.”

Madara and Hashirama stood in silence for a few seconds before the Uchiha closed the distance between them, looking up into Hashirama’s face. “WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT IS THAT?” Madara’s knotted his fists in the Senju’s shirt, pulling on it. “I’m not that short!”

“Madara, your head is right under my nose, and I’m not even pushing six foot yet.”

The Uchiha took a step back, folding his arms across his chest and not looking the Senju in the face. “Fine, but the next time, I get to be on top.”

“Really?” Hashirama nearly high-fived himself.

“Yes, really. Don’t think I won’t forget about this, Hashirama.”

Hashirama embraced Madara tightly, squeezing the air from his lungs. The Uchiha frowned, setting his hands on the Senju’s shoulders. Why Madara had agreed to do any of this was beyond him. He knew getting involved with Hashirama would be problematic and this was the perfect example; he agreed to take the less dominant role in their relationship. Madara’s finger’s clenched in Hashirama’s shirt. The Senju felt the fingers digging into his shoulders through thin fabric. “Are you scared?”

Madara huffed. “Wouldn’t you be a little nervous?”

Hashirama pulled away from Madara, grabbing the Uchiha’s hand and putting it over the Senju’s chest. Madara’s eyes widened, jerking with the realization. Hashirama’s pulse was beating so frantically; Madara’s fingers shook, looking up into the Senju’s calm, yet still flushed face. “Whenever I’m with you, I’m always nervous because I’ve been waiting to be this close to you.” Hashirama wrapped his fingers around Madara’s hands. “I’m ready to spend a lifetime hiding in the shadows with you, from the prying eyes on the world, just so I can feel the press of your lips against mine.”

Sputtering, Madara tried to pull back; Hashirama held fast. “You say the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

Hashirama laughed. “Then why are you blushing like a maiden?”

“UCHIHAS DON’T BLUSH!”

Hashirama tried to wrap his arms around Madara, but the Uchiha violently started to struggle, shoving the Senju’s face as far away from him as possible. Both of them stopped suddenly, tensing. Hashirama wrapped his arms protectively around Madara, looking towards the source of the noise. He could feel himself starting to sweat.

“What was that?” Madara asked, being thoroughly smashed into the Senju’s chest.

“I don’t know.”

“Did your parents just come back?”

“No, they would have called first.”

Madara disentangled himself from the Senju, looking around the corner of the laundry room and into the hallway. The house startlingly quiet, offering no clues as to the source of the noise. “Let’s go check it out.”

“Hold on…” Hashirama reached up into the powdered detergent on the top shelf and pulled a gun from it. He pulled it out of the bag, screwing the silencer into place, and slipped it into the back of his jeans. “Okay, now we can go.”

Hashirama, much to Madara’s annoyance, actually pulled him back so that he had to stand behind the Senju. Madara rolled his eyes; he was far more than capable than taking care of himself.

After a sweep on the downstairs and basement, Hashirama paused in the kitchen, grabbing onto his slightly warm beer. “Maybe it was just our imaginations.”

The Uchiha blinked. “Hn, what about the upstairs?”

“Can’t we just pretend nothing happened?” Hashirama complained. This was definitely killing the evening he had planned out for them. This was supposed to be movie and make-out time.

“Upstairs, Senju.” Madara shoved Hashirama back through the archway, nearly pushing him onto the stairs. “Come on, you’re the one with the gun, right? And I can’t go first because I’m such a delicate flower.” Hashirama rolled his eyes, his feet barely making noise as he went up, Madara following behind him.

Both of them paused, Hashirama turning his head towards his father’s office, his blood turning cold as he rushed to the door, gun already in hand. He kicked it open, spying a man sifting through his father’s files. Madara peered around the Senju’s shoulder, looking at the scattered glass on the floor and the files strewn about. The man paused; he was wearing all black, even going for the very cliché black ski mask. “Freeze, asshole.” Before Hashirama could even fire a bullet, the man threw himself backwards out the window. The two of them rushed towards him, watching as he grabbed at the branches of a tree, catching himself and landing softly on the ground. He made a break for the fence, Hashirama’s gun aimed right on him. The Senju fired two shots, one barely missing his head and the other grazing his shoulder as he ducked into a roll. Madara was about to jump out the window and follow after him on foot when Hashirama pushed him back, holding him in place with one arm. “Don’t. It would be bad if any of my other relatives saw that you were running around in the neighborhood.”

“I guess we’re lucky your gun had a silencer.” Madara muttered, turning back to the mess in the room. He sighed. “What did he take?” The Senju turned back towards the mess of files, flipping the lights on.

“I don’t know. I think we may have caught him before he actually managed to find what he was looking for.” Hashirama looked at the files on the desk, one in particular catching his eye. “Madara.” The Uchiha perked up, heading towards the Senju. He handed him a stack of papers and the Uchiha’s eyes widened.

“Kaguya.” Both of them turned towards the open drawers of the filing cabinets, getting in close enough to bend over and look through the files. “Hashi, tell me your father’s filing system. What do the colors mean?”

“Well, black is kind of obvious, it’s ‘dead’, blue is ‘neutralized and friendly’, green is ‘neutralized but hostile’, and red is well, usually ‘Uchiha’. Your file is red.”

Madara rolled his eyes. “Obviously.” The Uchiha paused for a moment, looking back at Kaguya’s file. Hers was green, which didn’t surprise Madara much. She may have been in charge of the neutral zone but that didn’t mean she needed to be friendly. He flipped to the first page, tapping the paper triumphantly. “Hashirama look for any files marked Otsutsuki…”

“Can you use it in a sentence?”

“I will Otsutsuki the shit out of you if you don’t do as I say.”

Hashirama laughed, crippled by the loud, uncontainable fit that had taken over it. “I didn't actually think you would do it.” Madara kicked the Senju in the side, trying to make him get back on task.

“I’m serious, Hashirama. Whoever that was, used Kaguya’s file for a reason.”

“You’re always so serious.”

Madara rolled his eyes. “That reminds me, we never did get to talk about Kaguya…”

Hashirama paused, fingers toying with the name cards on the cabinet he was currently looking through. He turned towards Madara. He had his arms across his chest, face and eyes locked into the Uchiha stoicism. “Did your father say anything?”

“No. But it’s not like I could have told him the full truth either. There would have been immediate repercussions if I told him she approached us. And I made Izuna promise he wouldn’t say anything.”

“What kind of repercussions are we talking about here?”

Madara took a deep breath out his nose, eyes cast away from Hashirama. “Going to public school isn’t exactly something Uchihas do…And my father was very clear that at the first sign of trouble, whether it was in school or not, he would stop allowing me to go outside the Uchiha territory.”

Hashirama’s hand shook at the thought, eyes widening. “Are you serious? But shit happens in the Uchiha district all the time.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Madara sighed, rubbing the space between his brows. “I honestly didn’t think he would allow this for so long…He’s been surprisingly generous considering he could have pulled me out at any time. Any way you look at it, the Uchihas and Senjus are still feuding. Any member of your family could kill me at school if they wanted to.”

The Senju frowned, closing the distance between them. He cupped Madara’s face gently in his hand, staring straight into the Uchiha’s red eyes, unafraid of the malice they tended to keep. “I would never let you die, Madara. Do you understand me? If it came down to family loyalty or you, I would give my life to protect you.”

“But would you kill someone in your family for me, huh, Hashirama?” Hashirama’s eyes widened, his mouth opening to say something but no words came out. Madara felt a pain sink through his chest and looked away. “You can’t make bold claims like that and not consider what protecting me might mean. Family loyalty is something we both have to live by because, whether or not we want to face it, they are still our families. If a situation arouse where we had to make the ultimate decision, I think we both know what kind of call we’d have to make. Wanting me and having me with you is ultimately going to lead to problems for both of us.”

“I love you.”

“Hn? What was that?”

“You heard me. I’m completely in love with you, Madara.”

Madara turned his face away, feeling his eyes widen so much that they were about to drop out of his head. Hashirama was always like this. He wore his heart directly on his sleeve, never really hiding his emotions unless he had to. The Uchiha’s heart bounced against his chest, heavy and burdened. It wasn’t like Madara didn’t know, but hearing spoken by the person was a completely different matter than speculation.

“I know you probably won’t say it back to me, and I accept that, but I know you feel the same, regardless of whether or not you say so.”

“You sure are confident about that.”

Hashirama smirked, bringing his hands to encircle Madara’s neck, capturing him in a gentle embrace. “You would have never agreed to give me everything that is you otherwise.”

Madara, knowing he was about to get swept away in the moment, pushed Hashirama back, still refusing to look into the Senju’s eyes. He didn’t want to know what look they held. It would be something beautiful, something he didn’t deserve. So Madara kept himself turned away. “We still need to find what the burglar was trying to take.”

The Senju sighed, shaking his head. He turned away from Madara, starting to look through the files again. “You can’t hide from your feelings forever Madara. I know it’s like totally so lame for Uchiha to have emotions or whatever, but what we have is real.”

“The lamest thing in this room is actually your outfit, not my feelings.” Madara said, pulling open one of the drawers. Hashirama gasped with the surprise of Madara’s sharp tongue, feeling the depression slowly soaking into him. Why was Madara such an asshole? And why did he have to fall in love with such an asshole?

“Hey, look at this.” Hashirama, recovering from the burn Madara gave him, turned towards the files the Uchiha had open.  “Both these guys have the same last name as Kaguya…Hagoromo and Hamura. Don’t they look really familiar?”

Hashirama frowned. “Weren’t they with her that day?”

“In the restaurant?”

“No, at the pier.”

“I honestly don’t remember that well. I was trying not to get stabbed in the neck.”

The Senju grabbed the files from Madara, folding them so he could look at them both at the same time. “They’re both black files, but they have different colored stickers inside. One black and the other red. But why would we need to know that if they file is already black?” Hashirama bit his lip. “I’ve never seen this before…Father generally doesn’t put anything on the inside after they’ve already died.”

“Red is Uchiha, right? So is that an indicator of Uchiha assassination?”

Hashirama nursed his lip, opening up each filing cabinet and searching through all the black marked files. Each other had one thing in common, there were no additional marks inside. And even after Hashirama had searched through them all, he turned to Madara, face a little more pale than normal. “Those deaths were something different, something special.”

Madara took Hagoromo’s and Hamura’s files back from Hashirama, scanning through the pages of information in the first file. He paused, eyes widening. He checked the second one, heart jumping up in tempo. “They were killed on the same day…A week before Kaguya showed up at the restaurant.” The Senju felt his mouth go dry, an unknown feeling jumping up in his stomach and threatening to let loose from his throat.

“Madara, what does that mean?”

The Uchiha looked at the shattered window; the breeze from the night air chilling him as it seeped into the room. “Something bad, I think.”  
\---

Madara nursed his lips, thinking about everything that happened when he spent the evening with Hashirama. How it had turned from an uncomplicated event into something that spiraled out of control, he was unsure. Something about those files and those deaths made no sense. So, Kaguya’s sons had been murdered, undoubtedly by people Madara and Hashirama both knew, on the same day. But what did it mean? What was going on? Was this the reason she was trying to approach them? Was that man working for Kaguya? And if not, who was he working for?

The Uchiha closed his eyes as he carded his hands through his hair, frowning. He heard the stopping of feet, looking up. Hashirama pulled out Mito’s chair. She smoothed her bubble hem dress, which Madara noticed, had a nice blue and pink floral pattern on it. It was strapless, showing off her bosom and gracefully long neck. She brushed her long red hair out of her face, weaving her hand in with Hashirama’s. The Uchiha’s eyebrow twitched. Madara and Mito exchanged their customary glare as the Senju massaged his temple. “So, come up with anything?”

“No…” Madara sighed and Mito looked at the two of them, eye demanding answers to unspoken questions. Not like they could have given her much of an explanation anyway.

“Is there anything I should be concerned about?” Hashirama and Madara were silent in contemplation. There was plenty going on; Madara had experienced it all firsthand that night, but nothing that Mito needed to know about. Though, Madara wouldn’t tell Mito even if her life was at stake. He didn’t like giving handouts to those who were completely oblivious. “Alright, obviously there’s something going on. Tell me, I’m not an idiot.”

Madara and Hashirama locked their gaze, still saying nothing. Madara spoke first, “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Oh and that’s supposed to make me feel better? In case you’ve forgotten, Madara, I’m supposed to take control of the Uzumaki family when Hashirama and I get married. I’m not some brainless child.”

“I don't see what that has to do with this.” Madara replied, eyes narrowing. “Just because you’re an inheritor, doesn’t mean shit, honestly.”

“You know, Madara, a truce between the three families will never exist if you continue to be such a dick.” Mito fired back, her brow creasing with the signature Uzumaki rage. “Keeping me out of this…whatever it is, is going to have serious ramifications. I can assure you of that much.”

“Oh? And why is that, exactly? What will the Uzumaki family do if they find out Hashirama and I, not even the current heads of our families, are keeping secrets from you, who is also not the respective head?”

Mito stood up suddenly, Madara also rising for the occasion. The Uzumaki pulled her arm back, fully intent on striking the Uchiha. But Madara was ready, he reached behind him into his pocket, grabbing the only knife he brought onto the school grounds. If he was going to get kicked out of school, he might as well make it count. But before either of them could do a single thing, Hashirama stepped in, grabbing both of them by the arm and pushing them from the table. “Honestly, both of you are too hot-tempered for your own good.” The Senju looked sternly at the two of them before Madara composed himself, sitting back down, face impassively set. Mito pushed a strand of loose hair from her face, glaring at the Uchiha before settling back down into her chair. “Madara, maybe we should let Mito in on this?”

The Uchiha raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You think so, do you?” They stared at each other heatedly, before Madara rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Hashirama sighed, shaking his head. “So, Mito, what exactly do you know about a woman named ‘Kaguya’?”

The red haired woman’s eyes widened, turning so that she could look Hashirama in the face. “Why?”

“I thought you wanted to know what was going on…?” Madara questioned, smiling wryly at the woman sitting across from him.

Mito frowned. “Well, from what I’ve been hearing lately from my mother, I know she may not be a boss anymore.”

Madara felt a surge of ice down his back as he focused his full attention on the Uzumaki woman. “What?”

“Why am I unsurprised that you seem to know none of this?” She leaned her face on her hand, shaking her head. “I was wondering why the two of you weren’t at the meeting.”

“Meeting? When was this?” Hashirama demanded, pouting slightly. “Why did no one tell me about this?”

“Better question, why didn’t _I_ know about this?” Madara complained. “You’re an idiot so it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re going to replace you with your far more hostile brother.”

“Hear, hear.” Mito said, smirking as Hashirama got his depressed aura. “It happened about two weeks ago; both Tajima and Butsuma were there, and you know, their entourage.” She waved her hand dismissively, eye flicking towards Madara. “Kaguya was there as well; apparently we are having a dispute about the neutral zone.”

“So, we’re getting rid of it, right?” Madara asked, not really needing an answer to confirm his suspicions.

“According to Tajima and Butsuma, we are.” Mito shrugged. “The Uzumaki family doesn’t particularly care about this matter. Our territory would not expand from a seizure of Kaguya’s assets and our business would still remain the same; which reminds me, Madara, do you need me to arrange something so you can finally get a woman?”

Madara frowned, not bothering to hide his disgust. “No thanks, I have a fiancée.”  

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Hashirama laughed at Mito’s comment, earning himself the full, focused glare of the Uchiha family.  “Anyway, Tajima and Butsuma were bullying her into agreeing. They said if she didn’t sign an official agreement within a month, they would be starting a war.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed. “What does this even prove? We all know the neutral zone isn’t exactly neutral, but there’s no real reason for the Uchiha to want that land. I always assumed there was someone in control of it so the Senju and Uchiha wars wouldn’t affect the entire city.”

Mito shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea what your fathers are thinking. Even after the meeting, my mother was confused about the motivation. The only thing I could think of is that they want someone else in the neutral zone, get Kaguya off the map.”

“She must know something our fathers don’t want getting out.” Hashirama announced, nodding his head. “Why else would our fathers be teaming up for this? They hate each other.”

“Maybe they’re secretly lovers.”

“No way.” Madara and Hashirama said in unison. They looked at the Uzumaki woman strangely, both gaining an edge of disgust on their faces. She laughed lightly.

“Either way, you two should figure out what exactly they’re not telling anyone.”

“Was my brother at this meeting?” Madara asked. “You know what Izuna looks like, right?”

“Yeah, I do. But no, he wasn’t there. Neither was Tobirama. Like I said, I thought it was weird no inheritors were there. I thought you guys and your siblings would be there for sure. It was have definitely been less boring if you had been there Madara; I love glaring at you from across the room.”

“Let’s skip all the playing around bullshit and just have an affair, Mito.” Madara blew a kiss to the woman, making the Uzumaki smirk. “Take the clans by storm with a different alliance.”  

“Together you and I would be unstoppable.” She smiled gently, grabbing Madara’s hand from the table and cradling it in her own.

“You’re both so cute when you’re being nice to each other.” Hashirama noticed then and they were squeezing each other’s hands as hard as they could, both refusing to show any pain. They both slowly turned their heads towards Hashirama, showing equal looks of disdain.

“How dare you think I'm cute, Hashirama, you idiot.”

“Don’t even begin to believe I’d ever be nice to _the Uchiha_.”

The Senju sputtered at the dirty looks being cast his way. “The two of you are the worst.”

“You never were one for taste, Hashirama.” Madara said, turning his chin up. “Even right now, your outfit is totally lame and ugly.”

“Madara’s right about that.” Mito nodded her head. “It’s a good thing you lost that bet to Madara about your hair otherwise I’d be forced to marry a man with a bowl-cut. How disgusting.”

“I was just a kid, how was I supposed to know it looked so stupid?!”

“You had to look yourself in the mirror.” Madara quipped, smirking. Hashirama distractedly looked at the Uchiha’s pink lips as he spoke. Even though venomous and angry words kept flowing from his petal soft mouth, the Senju still wanted to kiss him. “I mean, argyle? Seriously? Gag me, it’s more obnoxious than your personality.”

Mito couldn't stifle her laugh as Hashirama gained his depressed posture, pouting at them. “Madara, go easy on him. He may cry.”

“Mito, you’re stylish, can’t you do something?”

“Oh and what about you, Madara? He listens to you.”

“Obviously not because he’s wearing that ugly vest.” 

“You guys are seriously mean!”

“Anyway, before we get too far off track.” Mito began, twirling a strand of hair on her fingers. “Why did you wanna know about Kaguya anyway? Have you even met her before? Aside from that meeting, I’d only heard rumors about her.” Hashirama and Madara looked at each other again, eyes locking in an intense gaze. “You two are seriously annoying with that Vulcan mind shit you do.”

“We’ve met her twice.” Madara said, with a shrug. “Both times outside of a meeting.”

“But that’s not really what’s important.” Hashirama countered. “My house got broken into last weekend.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Was anything stolen?”

Hashirama shook his head. “No, whatever they were looking for, we didn’t give them time to find.”

“’We’? You were there, Madara? And what were you doing in the Senju compound?” Mito’s eyes narrow on the Uchiha, who smirks harshly, not concealing his mirth.

“Oh you know, gaining counter-intelligence, making maps of the house, getting beer spilled on me and fighting off a home-invader. The usual.”

Mito silently glared at the Uchiha, knowing Madara wasn’t speaking full truths. Madara wasn’t an idiot. And neither was she. The reason why Mito insisted on hanging around them, even when she had friends who would have been better company, was that she felt threatened by Madara. The Uchiha knew that if she could, she would drive the deepest, heaviest wedge between Hashirama and himself, but right now she didn’t know how to. She was tolerating him, at best.

“Anyway,” Hashirama’s eyebrow twitched, avoiding the hidden-in-plain-sight accusation. “The thief broke into my father’s office. He was rummaging around in his filing cabinets, looking for something about Kaguya’s family.”

“How do you know that?” Mito asked, skeptically eyeing the Senju next to her.

“Because Kaguya’s file was on his desk. We think he was trying to look for the files on her sons.” Hashirama shrugged. “I also think this because Madara didn’t find their files in the ‘O’ section. They were in a completely different cabinet. And that means my dad was probably trying to hide them.”

Mito folded her hands together, face set indifferently but she was biting her lip. “This is something bad, isn’t it? There’s something going on.”

“They have to be hiding something from Hashirama and myself.” Madara muttered, fingers tensing on the table. “But why, I think, is the most pressing question….”

“You said you’ve met Kaguya before, right? Has she said anything weird to you, like threatening or otherwise?”

Madara chewed his lip, unsure if they should tell Mito about the four men they had to kill. They had been sent by Kaguya, which was without a single doubt. They actually hadn’t been able to talk about it much because of Mito, but Madara didn’t know if bringing it up now would be such a good idea. Even though Mito was being calm about this current issue, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t make her mother call a meeting later on about their safety. It would be messy. Madara enjoyed his freedom. “If I tell you, will you promise to keep it to yourself?” The Uchiha’s eyes were hard, looking straight into the Uzumaki’s face. She blinked, surprised, but nodded. Hashirama also nodded. “Kaguya sent four small timers after us. Hashirama and I are obviously fine, but afterwards, she caught up with us and pretty much said she did it to see us in action.”

Mito stiffened, hands clenched into fists on the table. “Did you tell your fathers about this?”

“I can’t.” Madara sighed. “If I indicated at all I was in any form of danger, my father would pull me out of school. And you’d probably never see me again.”

The Uzumaki’s eyes widen, a wave of emotion showing in her dark gray eyes. “I don’t see how that’s fair.” She complained, lips set into a thin, unamused line.

Madara shrugged. “Sometimes life isn’t exactly fair.”

\----

Madara sighed as he opened the front door, Izuna racing in before him. It was strangely quiet in the house considering the time. Madara looked into the living room and his cousins were all huddled around a table, completely tense and silent. The Uchiha rolled his eyes. Madara headed towards his room when he heard the booming of cheers and applause, meaning someone had a come from behind victory. He smiled lightly to himself. Before he could open his door, the creaking of stairs alerted him to the presence of his father, slowly coming down from his office. “Father.” Madara greeted, bowing slightly.

“Madara, come upstairs.” The Uchiha raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything further, depositing his bag into his room before heading up to his father’s office. He could hear the patter of rain against the windows as he moved into the hallway, grabbing the knob to his father’s office, wondering why he had even bothered to close it. “Close the door behind you.” Madara nodded, shutting it softly. When the Uchiha turned back around, he noticed, for the first time, the bandages on his father’s shoulder. His eyes widened, rushing over to him and checking to make sure they weren’t bleeding. “Get off of me, boy. I’ve already been patched up.”

“What happened? Are you alright?” Madara tried not to let the concern show on his face, not let his father see the emotions which got him slightly choked up upon seeing the wound.

Tajima scoffed. “I’ve had worse.” He moved so that he was standing in front of the window, staring out into the blackening sky. Dark clouds swirled and raced over the sun, releasing waves of droplets to the earth. “Madara,” The Uchiha tensed, noticing the clenching of his father’s fists at his side. He took a step back, waiting. “What were you doing at the Senju compound?”

Madara’s eyes widened drastically, voice catching in his throat. How did his father know? The Uchiha’s eyes moved towards his father’s shoulder again, remembering how Hashirama missed the head-shot on the thief and grazed him in the shoulder. Madara’s jaw slackened. “I guess I could ask you the same question.”  

Tajima didn’t even tense, turning around so that he could look his son in the face. His eyes were shining with unspoken anger. He scowled, Madara returning the look with the same fury. “Answer my question, boy.”

“Why should I? When were you going to tell me that you and Butsuma are going after the neutral zone?”

Tajima flinched at the question. “Who told you? That Senju brat?”

“Actually, no. Mito told me.” Madara took a challenging step forward. “I had to hear it from that Uzumaki bitch and not even from my own father. What the fuck are you thinking? We don’t need that land.”

“Mind your own business, Madara.” Tajima fired back, grabbing onto his son’s arm, pulling him forward. “Don’t forget your place. I am _your father_. Not to mention, _you’re_ not my inheritor, _Izuna is_.”

“Oh, then tell me why Izuna wasn’t even there with you? In fact, neither were Butsuma’s inheritors. How strange.” Madara shook off his father’s hand, gaining an edge on him. He backed his father up into the window sill, eye to eye with him. “You and Butsuma are planning something, aren’t you? Why keep it a secret? You killed Kaguya’s son, right?”

Tajima pushed Madara’s chest, freeing himself from the strong gaze his son had over him. He frowned, glaring furiously at the boy who insolently stepped forward to challenge him. “So what if I did?”

“So what? _SO WHAT_?” Madara felt something inside of him snap, reaching out and grabbing on his father’s injured shoulder, forcing the man to look him in the face. Tajima flinched at the pressure on his wound but remained relatively impassive. “She sent _men_ after Hashirama and me! Do you know what you’ve _started_?!”

Tajima’s eyes widened, grabbing Madara’s wrist and twisting it so that his son was momentarily crippled by the sudden influx of pain. The Uchiha grit his teeth. “No more. No more of your free rein, Madara. You’re staying here, with me, where you belong. You’re _never_ leaving this house again.”

Panic blossomed across Madara’s face, tightening his chest and causing acid to rise in his throat. He had said too much. “You can’t keep me here.” Madara said, freezing his expression in the traditional stoicism of the Uchiha. He let his eyes go cold, not bothering to hide his disdain in ruddy irises. Madara turned, heading back towards the door. Tajima reached out quickly, choking Madara by grabbing onto the back of his collared shirt. The Uchiha coughed as the fabric tightened around his throat. Before he could even think to stop himself, Madara whipped around, breaking the hold his father had on him. He grabbed Tajima’s arm, twisting and straightening it. In one hand, Madara held his father’s clenched fist, with his other, he pushed Tajima’s arm forward, filling the room with the ear grating, sickening snap of bone. Tajima cried out and Madara snapped back into his senses. He had just broken his father’s arm.

Tajima, using his non-broken arm, punched Madara as hard as he could, using his full body to swing into the strike. Madara felt his nose crunch under the pressure, instinctively wobbling backwards. Tears sprung up in his eyes, falling hotly down his cheeks. He clutched his face in his hands, blood dripping through his fingers. Madara would have two black eyes, he knew that. He almost fell to his knees, noticing how much they shook underneath him as wave after wave of powerful and painful nausea washed through him.

Madara threw open the door, running down the stairs. He refused to be trapped here. He didn’t want this to happen. If he hadn’t lost his temper everything would have been fine. Madara grabbed his bag and keys, rushing to the front door. His cousins were all standing around, dumb-founded. They had all heard the commotion, eyes widening as Madara pushed through them, blood and involuntary tears on his face. “MADARA!” He twitched upon hearing his father screaming his name but kept shoving his cousins out of the way. He was so close to the door. “DON’T LET HIM LEAVE!”

The Uchihas around him tensed, all focusing on Madara. No one made a move, all silently standing together, watching and waiting for the first move. Madara’s hand was on the door knob, knowing he could rush to his car if he was fast enough. One of his cousins, Fugaku, reached out intended to grab Madara by the collar of his shirt, but was suddenly cut off by Izuna pushing him into the wall. “Run, Aniki!”

Madara heart pounded loudly in his chest as he slammed the door behind him. The rest of his cousins were following him out but didn’t make it fast enough; the Uchiha pulled away from the curb, tires screeching on the wet asphalt. Madara didn’t know what he was going to do or where he could go, but he just kept driving.  
\--

Hashirama opened the door, not expecting Madara to be standing on the other side, face covered in sticky blood. He wasn’t looking into the Senju’s face, but rather at the door mat. His hair was wet from the rain, sticking to his neck and cheeks. “I didn’t know where else to go.” Madara muttered. “I’ll lea-“

The speed Hashirama embraced Madara, pulling him into the house gave the Uchiha no time to react. Warmth spread through Madara as the Senju held him; his larger body encasing him, trapping him with the strength of his arms. Hashirama buried his face into Madara’s hair, a large, comforting hand at the back of his neck. “It’s okay, Madara. Everything is going to be okay now.”

“Hashi…”

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Hashirama pulled back, weaving his fingers into the Uchiha’s, trying to guide him down the hall. Madara stood firmly in place; the grip on Hashirama’s hand increasing. “Madara?”

“Hashirama, I…” The Senju turned, his eyes widening as Madara’s body shook. The Uchiha was squeezing his hand so hard, but Hashirama ignored it, moving closer again. “I love you.”

The Senju smiled, carding his fingers through the Uchiha’s hair, massaging Madara’s scalp as he did so. The Uchiha refused to look up at him. Hashirama held Madara again, burying his face against the wild mane of wet hair. It smelled fresh, like the rain. Madara clawed at the Senju’s shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Madara shook in Hashirama’s arms, feeling an overwhelming sensation bubble up from his stomach and choke him. For some reason, he wanted to cry, but he wasn’t sure why. Holding onto Hashirama as tightly as he could, Madara knew that his fear was strong, that it was consuming. His feelings were running wild again, sweeping him away in a torrent of emotion. He did something foolish. But when he felt Hashirama’s nose brushing against his scalp, hands weaving into his hair, pulling their bodies even closer together, it seemed like everything was fine.

Madara found it funny that love made the world seem like it had stopped moving; nothing existed but a moment compressed in time between two people. His heart beat loudly in his ears as Hashirama leaned into kiss him. Love scared him. The rose-tint of the world would revert eventually. And the moments would become fleeting.

He wanted to stay with Hashirama like this forever. But even Madara knew, if the moments froze forever, they would just be ideas and would linger in a plane where no one could reach them. This love he had with Hashirama would suffocate him, Madara realized as the Senju slipped his tongue between his lips, not caring about the blood on his face.

And if that were the case, he wouldn’t care much if he drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the drama llama has raised it's ugly head. Even though this chapter ended with a fluffy little confession, things are always brighter when you're so close to the sun.  
> Well, we'll see how difficult things get...IN THE NEXT CHAPTER >:D


	4. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending a few, blissful days with Hashirama, Madara returns home only to find his father has a plan in the works...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “For lovers, a bridge is a possibility, a metaphor for their chances…But that will be the doom of paradox. Bridges join but they also separate” The Passion, Jeanette Winterson

“Can’t you be any more gentle, Mito?” Madara complained. His hand was intertwined with Hashirama’s, squeezing so hard that the skin was completely white from the strain. The red head huffed, pushing a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear. She had packed his nose with gauze to keep the bones from moving around, making sure it kept the straightness of its original position.

“I’m done, quit being such a baby.” She said, pulling back. “You’re lucky. It’s not crooked at all and as long as you keep it iced, the swelling should be gone by this time tomorrow.” She ran her fingers gently down Madara’s cheek; face blank of emotions. “You know,” Both Hashirama and Madara looked up. They had let go of each other and stared up into the Uzumaki’s pretty face. “If you need a place to go after Hashirama’s family comes back from their trip, I can set you up with something in the red light district.”

Hashirama tensed, but no one else in the room seemed to notice. Madara blinked, opening his mouth and then closing it. Hashirama spoke up, “You’d be willing to do that?” His voice shook slightly at the end.

“Naturally.” She replied, pulling a cigarette case out of her pocket. The ivory and gold cover glistered in the light as she removed a dark papered cigarette from it. Before lighting it, she said, “The only way a real alliance between our families can be reached is if we protect what’s important. Each other.” Her breath was perfumed by the scent of cloves as smoke billowed from her lips. “Besides that, my mother would be thrilled taking care of Madara after she hears he broke Tajima’s arm. She’s wanted to do that for years.” Hashirama unconsciously moved closer to the Uchiha next to him, relaxing a bit as he did so.

“Can I get one of those?” Madara asked; Mito handed him the case. “I guess being in the red light district wouldn’t be too terrible.” Hashirama’s fingertips barely brushed against the Uchiha’s thigh and he shifted out of the Senju’s range. Mito flicked the flint of her lighter, Madara leaned in, setting the dark gray paper ablaze.

Mito took a chair next to Hashirama, settling in. “So, what are you going to do now, Madara? Your nose may be okay, but those black eyes are going to be there for at least three days.”

Madara let out a sigh, smoke exiting with his breath. “I don’t know.” He tapped the butt of his cigarette over a crystal ash tray on the table, shaking his head. The ash fell in a neat pile. “Knowing my father, he probably already contacted the school and put in that I would no longer be attending, effective immediately.”  

“Maybe we should call a meeting.” Hashirama proposed. He took the cigarette from Madara’s hand, taking a drag from it. Mito clicked her tongue, staring at Hashirama and Madara, who were barely separated by the few inches of space on the couch.

“And how would that help?” Mito questioned, calmly. Her face completely stony and blank. “I doubt the Uzumaki and Senju clans would care if Madara can’t go to school with us.”

Madara tapped the butt of his cigarette out in the ashtray, “Don’t worry about that, for now. The next few days, I’m going to lay low. Let this blow over in the house, and then go back.”

Mito and Hashirama shared a look, both frowning at the Uchiha. “I refuse that proposal.” Mito said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Madara raised an eyebrow, “Not really your decision, is it, Mito?”

“I also don’t like that plan, Madara.” Hashirama spoke up. “You said yourself that we’d probably never see you again if your father pulled the plug on this.”

Madara sighed, shrugged his shoulders. “There’s not much else we can do. Let’s face it, none of the clans are going to care what we have to say. We’re not the heads of anything. And while your mother, Mito, may be willing to keep me guarded from my father, it’ll only be a matter of time before a war breaks out over it. I have to go back.”

“But who will I glare at during lunch?” Mito said sardonically.  

Madara was about to say something but Hashirama interrupted him. “We have a few more days before my family comes back. We’ll think of something before then. I’m not going to give up so easily.”

Mito nodded. “Yes, we’ll think of something.”

“Why do you even care, Mito?” Madara asked, settling into the Senju’s couch. He crossed his arms over his chest, not necessarily frowning, but thinning his lips in a skeptical manner.

She turned her head away from the Uchiha, laughing softly. “Hashirama is annoying and I need someone to trash talk him with. I’m not usually one for sentimentality, but I would miss you a little, I suppose.”

Madara smirked. “Of course you’re sentimental, Mito, you’re a woman after all.”

“Do you want me to re-break your nose, Uchiha?” The Uzumaki said with a sugary-sweet smile. “Maybe fracture a cheekbone while I’m at it?”

“You know,” Madara and Mito broke away from their glaring to look at Hashirama, who was resting a cheek on his hand, shaking his head. “You both are usually so hostile to each other it’s so nice to see you getting along.” He was smiling so warmly at them. Madara hid the flushing on his cheeks and huffed indignantly. That smile was blinding up close.

Both Madara and Mito, steeling themselves against such a warm look, gained grave expressions for a moment before turning their faces towards the Senju.

“As if I could force myself to get along with such a woman, you complete idiot Hashirama.”

“How presumptuous of you, Hashirama, to think that I do anything with Madara willingly.”  

“Why does this always happen?” Hashirama complained, pouting with his arms crossed.

“Hn.” Madara muttered.  

The three of them tensed when they heard a knocking on the front door. Hashirama put up a steadying hand as Mito and Madara got to their feet. She made a shooing motion and pushed Madara back into the kitchen, standing in front of the archway to obscure him more.

Hashirama opened the door, startled when it was pushed out of his hands, and Izuna came rushing in. “Aniki? Are you here?” Madara pushed Mito out of his way and came into the living room where Izuna was standing, looking around. He smiled briefly before noticing just how bad Madara’s face was bruised. “Aniki, are you alright?”

“How did you get here?” Madara ignored Izuna’s question, coming to stand in front of his brother with his arms crossed. He was frowning, but it weakened when he saw the concern shining in Izuna’s eyes.

“Hn, I snuck out. Obviously.” The younger Uchiha replied, turning his head slightly to break eye contact. “Father was angry that I helped you and he made me go to my room, but he was too busy barking orders at everyone to notice that I climbed out the window.”

“You walked here?”

Izuna laughed, smirking widely. “Of course not. I took the bus.”

Madara rubbed his temple, sighing as he did so. Hashirama stood behind them, watching with a gentle smile. Even though they were all supposed to be sworn enemies, it warmed his heart seeing Izuna’s bratty, concerned side, and even more so when Madara showed his stern, older brother side. Madara put his hand on Izuna’s shoulder and the younger moved in, hugging Madara around the waist. “I was worried about you, Aniki, you idiot. You broke father’s arm! And you looked so…”

“Hn, yeah, I know, Izuna, alright? We’re going to need to get you back home.”

“No way.”

Madara made a disbelieving noise in his throat and pushed Izuna so that he was standing straight in front of him. He wanted to be able to meet his younger brother's eye. “Izuna, it’s dangerous for you to be here. I’m taking you home.”

“No one but Hashirama is home. I haven’t seen his brother at school since last Thursday so the other Senju are gone, right? I’ll stay with you.” 

“You should listen to your older brother.” Mito commented, sending a weak glare towards the younger Uchiha.

Madara rolled his eyes. “Stay out of this, Mito.”

“You, apparently, aren’t very convincing on your own, Uchiha.” The red headed woman moved further into the room; her long hair swung behind her. She stopped next to Madara, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. Her silvery nails stood out brightly against his black leather jacket. Her brightly painted mouth close by Madara’s ear. “My offer still stands, Madara. Hashirama knows how to contact me, if need be.”  

Hashirama’s heart picked up as he watched the scene in front of him. Madara and Mito…They looked so natural standing next to each other. Both stoic and calm, both holding all the beauty of their families in their faces, strong-willed and stubborn. They were more than a smart match.

Mito walked past Hashirama, looking only very briefly over her shoulder before giving him a loud kiss. She left without a single word added. Izuna was staring between the door and Madara, watching his brother’s stoic face and wondering why it was that Madara looked cold but still on the brink of exploding. Hashirama smiled awkwardly at the older Uchiha, sensing the unhappiness.

“Oi, Aniki.” Madara finally snapped back into reality, lowering his eyes to meet Izuna’s gaze. “What did that Uzumaki woman mean when she said ‘her offer still stands’?” Madara’s lips thinned in a line and he patted Izuna on the shoulder.

“I’m taking you home.”

Izuna struggled for a moment, backing out of Madara’s reach and settling between his brother and Hashirama. Izuna shook his head. “Just hear me out first.” Madara frowned, he was about to grab Izuna by the collar of his shirt like he would scruff a cat, but if Izuna was fighting this hard, it had to mean something.

Madara sighed, rubbing his temples. “Okay Izuna, tell me then.”

“I can’t.” A deep breath exited the older Uchiha and he considering grabbing Izuna again. “I can’t say it in front of Hashirama.” The Senju’s depressed and alienated aura filled the room, making Madara run an exasperated hand through his hair.

“What’s wrong with Hashirama?” Madara asked. “There’s nothing to worry about when it comes to him. He’s a big idiot.”

_“I don’t trust him_.” Izuna snapped out, teeth gritting into a hard line as he stared into Madara’s face. “And you shouldn’t either.”

Madara and Hashirama briefly shared a look. “Kitchen.” Madara said with unhindered annoyance. “Now, Izuna.” Izuna quickly moved into the other room. Madara mumbled something, shaking his head as he followed his little brother into the kitchen. The smaller raven turned towards Madara frowning slightly.

“I can’t believe you made me say that in front of him.”

“Oh, so now you value what Hashirama thinks of you?” Izuna’s eyes widened for a moment at the question. He looked towards his older brother who was leaning against the counter, scowling. “His opinion doesn’t matter. What _I_ think is strange is that you thought something like that constitutes a secret.” Madara shook his head, laughing derisively under his breath. “Uchihas don’t trust Senjus, right? That’s what father has led us to believe.”

“BECA-“ Izuna cut himself off, regaining his composure and starting his sentence again as a whisper. “Because it’s true, Madara. They’ve given no reason for us to trust them.”

“Hashirama and I trust each other.”

Izuna didn’t seem phased at the admittance. “Just because you trust Hashirama doesn’t mean his family trusts you and won’t kill you on sight.”

Madara let out a sigh and he moved closer to Izuna, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling the smaller body close to him. “Izuna, are you ready to be the clan leader?”

Between the two of them, both knew that their father had passed the title over to Izuna, but this was actually the first time they had talked about it out loud. “W-well, yes. I’m ready….”

“With your attitude and naivete, you’ll get us all killed.” Madara said, barely above a whisper. “You’re just a child who only listens to father, you don’t have any idea about how this really works.” Izuna looked away from Madara then, eyes cast towards the floor. He pushed past his older brother and back out into the living room. “Go back home, Izuna.”

“I am!” He yelled back. “See if I care when you die.” Izuna slammed the door behind him.

Hashirama turned his head towards Madara who was massaging his temples, frowning deeply. “You okay?”

Madara shrugged. “Fine.” Hashirama moved over to give a bit of comfort but when Madara sidestepped him and completely avoided any means of contact, Hashirama sighed.

“You know, usually when someone offers you an ear and a shoulder to lean on, the polite thing to do is accept it.” Hashirama said, sitting down on the couch.

Standoffishly, Madara joined him, sitting on the completely opposite side, frowning. “What exactly am I supposed to say, Hashi? I fucked up, okay? I fucked up with my father because I let my anger get the better of me. I fucked up with Izuna because I wanted him to leave and be safe at home. And I fucked up with you be-“, Hashirama put a hand over the Uchiha’s mouth, effectively silencing the words he knew would cut him right down to the core.

“Don’t push me away, Madara. We both know you’re here right now because you want me to by your side. You wouldn’t have showed up on my down step like some lost kitten otherwise. Just…For now, just forget it all.”

Madara huffed as the Senju removed his hand. “Whatever.”

Hashirama slowly moved over towards Madara and eventually the Uchiha resigned himself, setting his head on the Senju’s shoulder. “Are you honestly considering what Mito said?” Hashirama watched Madara’s face from the corner of his eye, waiting. He was grinding his teeth slightly, waiting for the answer.

Madara shrugged. “Not particularly. However, I am grateful she even considered helping me, not that it would gain her much.”

“I was surprised.” Hashirama admitted with a laugh. He felt more relieved than words could properly express. “Maybe she has a crush on you.” Madara sat straight up, frowning as the Senju laughed, continuing to tease the Uchiha.

“Shut up! As if that she-witch would even harbor any feeling towards me besides hatred!”

“Oh I don’t know. I think she really likes you. She even acts all tough when you’re around.”

Madara scoffed. “You do realize we are talking about _your_ fiancée, right?”

Hashirama shrugged, but then cradled his chin with a serious look on his face. “Though it would cause me problems because I love you and I really don’t want to cause drama with Mito over who has the right to call you-“

“JUST BE QUIET, SENJU!” Madara felt heat flaring up in his cheeks as he pushed Hashirama with all of his might. Hashirama quickly retaliated, shoving Madara down into the couch, pinning him by his shoulders. The Uchiha struggled for all of two seconds before lips were pressed into his own. Hashirama devoured the Uchiha’s lips.

\---

Hashirama had felt temptation many times in his life; no other desire had festered so deeply under his skin like Madara.

Madara had been here for two days. All the time Hashirama got to spend alone with the Uchiha only made his body ache more. The urge to possess Madara wholly was inhuman…Which was why he was debating his current set of decisions. He was standing outside of the bathroom, Madara on the other side of the door, the shower obscuring all sounds. His hand was on the knob and he was already naked. He couldn’t stop himself, he had to go in. He had to see Madara at his most vulnerable.

The Uchiha started when he heard the door, even more so when the curtain to the shower was opened and Hashirama just waltzed in. He was going to say something in protest until his body stilled, Hashirama’s larger frame nearly covering his own. The Senju’s body felt warm, even though it hadn’t even been caressed by the hot water droplets of the shower. Madara shuddered when two strong hands grabbed his hips, pulling him closer.

“Hashi?” Madara questioned and the Senju looked away for a moment, face flushing. Madara couldn’t tell if it was from the heat or not.

“I-I just…” His voice trailed off when his hands moved from the Uchiha’s hips, up to his stomach, past his chest. Madara closed his eyes, heart fluttering wildly when the hands ended up in his hair, gently brushing through it. “Your hair is a lot greasier than it looks.”

Madara’s face had never changed so quickly into a cold glare in his entire life. “I don’t remember asking you to touch it!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll wash it for you.” Hashirama assured, grabbing a bottle and squirting a generous amount of shampoo into his hand. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“You’re so strange.” Madara muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. Hashirama’s fingers massaging his scalp and the attention Madara was getting made the Uchiha shiver, his pulse picked up, and blood pooled lower in his body. Hashirama suddenly turned the Uchiha around and Madara had never felt so vulnerable in his life. He didn’t have a single ounce of fondness for Hashirama’s strong chest pressing hotly into his back. But he found himself relaxing as those fingers worked through his hair again.

Madara immediately tensed however when he felt Hashirama’s hardness pressing directly into his ass. The Uchiha began to panic. “I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF WASHING MYSELF.” He yelled in a frenzied way, pushing Hashirama out of the shower. The Senju knew he had pushed his luck too far, but felt even more dejected about how close he had been and how far away he now seemed.

“I swear I was going to do anything!”

“Liar!” Madara’s head popped out from behind the curtain and he pointed straight at the Senju’s still erect cock. “Then what’s that?”

Hashirama laughed sheepishly. “It was just the heat?”  

“Get out, Hashi! I don’t want to-“

“Can we sleep in the same bed tonight?” Madara stopped in the middle of his tirade, mouth hanging open slightly. He had been taken off-guard by the request. “I just…I want to be close to you. And I didn’t want to ask because you said it makes me sound desperate and if I don’t ask you jus-“

“Okay.” Hashirama then stopped his own tirade. Both of them still retained the heat in their cheeks, not really looking at each other. But then, Madara caught Hashirama glance and the Senju boldly captured his lips in a hunger-laced kiss.

“I’ll see you in bed.” Hashirama said with a gentle smile. Madara just nodded once knowing he was about to get himself into a dumb situation.  
\---

“See? Isn’t this great?” Hashirama mumbled, pulling Madara closer to him. His arms were wrapped tightly around the Uchiha’s back, chin resting in the wild mane of midnight black hair. It smelled strongly of Hashirama’s shampoo; earthy and woody. Possessiveness struck Hashirama deeply as he buried his nose along the Uchiha’s scalp.

Sleepily, Madara replied, “Those feelings will pass, I assure you.” The Uchiha felt his entire body heat up the closer Hashirama pulled him. “Why are you insisting on cuddling? You’re a furnace.” Madara weakly tried to push on Hashirama’s chest, but there wasn’t much force behind it. But even though Madara acted as though he didn’t want to be close to the Senju, his nose and lips were resting against the tanned skin of Hashirama’s neck. They rubbed against the sensitive flesh each time he spoke, warm air puffing with every word. The Senju shuddered.

Hashirama carded a hand through the Uchiha’s hair, massaging his scalp gently with his fingers. Madara relaxed, considerably. This had worked earlier in the shower as well. Who knew someone like Madara liked to be pampered in this way? “I just want to be as close as possible to you, whenever I can get the chance. Besides, you’re the one who agreed.”

“Hn.” Madara responded, shoving his arm underneath Hashirama’s shoulder. He felt the silkiness of the Senju’s hair in his fingers and decided to rest his hand against Hashirama’s back, unconsciously rubbing small circles in the muscles. Hashirama started to twitch. The Uchiha cracked an eye. “Stop moving.”

“Then stop tickling me.”

“Oh? You’re ticklish, are you?” Madara smirked, a little lopsided because of his sleepy state.

“Hey now, don’t get any ideas. We’re trying to sleep.” Hashirama scolded, settling again. Madara’s hand stopped.

“Mhmm…” 

The room fell silent as the two of them laid together, tangled in a mess of their limbs. Madara’s breathing slowed as he let his mind wander, thinking of things that calmed him like the rain pattering against the Senju’s window or the slowing beat of Hashirama’s heart. He moved down slightly so that his head was resting more on the Senju’s chest. Hashirama’s cheek rested on the Uchiha’s forehead, nearly settling on his hairline.

Madara’s eye opened when he felt a repeating pressure against his forehead, as if Hashirama was poking him or rocking his jaw back and forth. He looked up at Hashirama’s face; his eyes were closed, face completely relaxed and set in a mask ready for sleep. The Uchiha ignored the sensation, believing it to be just a facial twitch. He adjusted his legs, sliding them so that his right leg slid in between Hashirama’s.

Then the pressure reappeared, not even a second after he closed his eyes. Madara felt his brow twitch with annoyance. He tried to pull back from the Senju, but Hashirama grumbled something under his breath, clinging to Madara even more tightly than before and holding him in place. The Uchiha felt his anger flare up, not appreciating being emasculated by a sleeping Senju. “Hashirama, stop.” The Senju didn’t respond, but the pressure against his forehead had ceased again.

“What?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Poking me in the forehead.” Madara peered up at the Senju’s face. Hashirama hadn’t even opened his eyes.

“Mh-kay.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah.”

Madara settled down again, feeling more awake than he would have liked. He closed his eyes, trying to scoot his body even farther down so that Hashirama’s face wasn’t even close to him, but he realized with how tightly the Senju was holding him, Madara couldn’t move any farther. The Uchiha huffed, forcing his face even deeper into the Senju’s neck.

It was weird being this close to Hashirama. Sure, they had hugged and made-out but this was different. This was intimate. The shower too had been intimate. But this…This was a different level. They were holding each other, trying to sleep in the same bed, cuddled up. Hashirama scent invaded Madara’s nose; it was strong being so close to the center of his body. It smelled like the freshness after a rainstorm, like walking through the woods in the middle of autumn. It was earthy, almost like Hashirama was composed of nature itself, but there were other more musky, masculine tones to the scent; the lingering of his cologne. It made Madara feel dizzy being so close.

But there was also a different strangeness being this close. Since Madara had arrived here two days ago, Hashirama hadn’t laid a single aggressive hand on him; sexual or otherwise. He was treating Madara delicately, for whatever reason. Even when Hashirama had somewhat aggressively joined him in the shower, he demanded nothing of Madara. He simply washed the Uchiha’s hair.

The raven found it annoying.

It wasn’t as though Hashirama thought he was weak; it was something else. Sure, both of his eyes were blackened and bruised, and yes, his nose still stung every so often now that it was healing, but it was as though Hashirama was trying to comfort him. And that just seemed to consist of snuggling and coddling and generally spoiling Madara with gentle, stolen kisses and sweet whispers. There was passion but it was hindered.

The muted air of their current situation made Madara restless for more. He wanted to be consumed by Hashirama.

He twitched, shaking his head lightly at the odd thoughts he was having. He did tell Hashirama that he was in love with him and maybe that was why he was feeling like this…That their feelings were mutually acknowledged but not being acted upon.

Madara felt his heart beat heavily in his chest as he opened his eyes, a small realization coming over him. Was Hashirama afraid to take the next step? After all their talk and all of his taunting…Was Hashirama scared of what was supposed to happen next? Madara’s grip tightened as he looked up at Hashirama’s face.

Then the poking, again, resumed. Madara felt a seething annoyance rip out of his stomach when he heard the faint chuckling of Hashirama, the soft puffing of his breath as he laughed almost silently to himself. If Madara wasn’t so close to his mouth, he probably wouldn’t have even heard it. Hashirama was intentionally trying to provoke him.

It was working.

The Uchiha frowned, reaching forward with his free hand and grabbing onto the Senju’s obscured nipple, squeezing painfully. Hashirama jumped, laughter broken up by a groan. “I said ‘stop’, Hashirama, do you really wish to see the full wrath of the Uchiha family?”

Hashirama retaliated in a similar manner, trapping Madara’s arm against his chest and reaching out with a tanned hand. He got underneath Madara’s wife-beater, the warmth of his palm sending electric jolts up the Uchiha’s back and he shuddered. Hashirama found Madara’s nipple, pressing into it softly, rolling it with his fingers. He twisted it gently; it started to get firm. “This is how that’s supposed to feel, Madara.” The Uchiha moaned weakly, trying to pull his hand away from the Senju. His other arm was trapped down my Hashirama’s shoulder. He couldn’t pull back, the warmth between them almost becoming suffocating as Hashirama began to tease his nipple more, twisting harder. It was painful but there was also jolts of excitement and adrenaline jostling around in Madara’s body. He wanted to fight this feeling.

Then he remembered. Smirking to himself, Madara flattened the arm at Hashirama’s side and moved his fingers erratically, making the Senju burst out with laughter. He tickled the Senju mercilessly, starting to laugh himself and not really understanding why. “Madara, stop!”

“You stop!” Madara laughed as Hashirama moved to grab his arm. The Uchiha pulled back, freeing himself from Hashirama’s grasp. Their legs were still tangled together and Hashirama hooked his foot behind Madara’s knees, pulling him back and closer. “Hashi!” Madara groaned as the Senju fondled him more, fingers trailing down his naval, sending warm washes of pleasure throughout the Uchiha’s body.

“You stop, I stop.”

“Oh, are you giving up, Hashi?” Madara was panting lightly, heating pulsing through him from the struggling and the arousal. He smirked widely, red eyes feral as he watched the Senju’s face.

Hashirama scoffed. “As if, I just don’t want to hurt your pride when you lose.”

“I don’t lose.” Madara countered, moving right back into Hashirama’s arms. The Senju embraced him hard, squeezing so that they couldn’t be separated by Madara’s struggling. He was more than awake now. He hadn’t thought just playing with Madara a little would lead to this situation. The fires of his passion and arousal were burning their way through his body as he urged to touch the Uchiha more.

Madara knew he had to kick this up a notch if he wanted Hashirama to concede, and continuing to tickle him wasn’t going to be enough. The Uchiha smirked as he flipped the Senju over, straddling his waist. He pinned Hashirama’s shoulders down, not really understand why he thought his was his best move, but he was just going with the flow of his body. He was letting instinct take the lead. Madara dipped his head low, mouth attaching to the delicate and tan skin of Hashirama’s neck. The Senju moaned openly, shifting so that his hands were cupping the backs of Madara’s thighs, pushing him forward. Their blooming arousals brushed together and Madara couldn’t help the moan bursting through his lips. The hot puffs of Madara’s breath tickled and warmed the skin on Hashirama’s neck; he twitched as Madara continued to kiss and suck on his neck. It was soft kissing, so it wouldn’t leave marks, but just the gentleness of Madara’s lips on his neck had Hashirama shaking with need. “Madara.”

The Uchiha lifted his head and Hashirama moved into place, sealing their lips together. Both of them moaned, seeking a deeper connection. Madara removed his hands from Hashirama’s shoulders and the Senju shot up into a sitting position, forcing the Uchiha to sit in his lap. His hands were everywhere touching, caressing, and just enveloping himself in everything that was Madara. When his fingers wove into that still slightly damp tangled mane of hair, Hashirama moaned; the smell perforating the room every time he brushed his hand through the tresses. Madara let out a weak whine when the Senju bucked his hips into the Uchiha’s. They pulled back from the kiss, grinding into each other wildly. Their gasps and breathy utterances filling up the silence. “Hashi...” Madara arched his back, a shudder wracking his frame as the tempo of their arousal pulsated through them. “Hashirama.”

Hashirama shivered at the soft, breathless way Madara uttered his name. Heat bounded through his blood and he forced Madara to lay back on the bed, resting on top of him. His heart beat skyrocketed as Madara threw his wife beater to the side, letting the Senju see the full expanse of Madara’s pale chest. He took in a deep breath, eyes widening at the arousing sight of Madara. His pink cheeks, the way his hair fell against Hashirama’s pillow, the half-lidded, wild look in his eyes. Hashirama bit his lip. “Madara, I don't know if I can stop myself if we go any farther than this.”

The Uchiha leaned up. “Are you giving up then?” He kissed the Senju’s ear, sucking on the tender skin behind it, letting out a heady, taunting laugh.

“I’m being serious.” Hashirama panted out the words, holding Madara against him. His skin was hot to the touch, sweat starting to break out across it. His scent was far stronger now than it was a few minutes ago. It was driving the Senju crazy. “I don’t want to do anything to scare or hurt you.”

Madara grabbed onto Hashirama’s face. “Does it look like I’m scared?”

Hashirama frowned. “Well, no-“

“Don’t ruin the fucking moment, idiot. Just go with the flow. If you do something I don't want, you’ll be the first one to know.” Madara said in a stern tone. His eyes softened as he moved his hands down from Hashirama’s face, resting them gently on Hashirama’s shoulders. “Or, are _you_ the one that’s scared?”

The Senju sighed, wrapping his arms around Madara’s back, pulling him close. “And you call me ‘stupid’.”

The Uchiha could feel heat settling into his cheeks at the veiled admission. “J-just go slowly and it’ll be fine. We knew this was going to happen eventually, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hashirama set his head on the Uchiha’s shoulder. “And here I thought I would be the one who’d calm you down.”

“Oh, there’s still time for that.” Madara ran a hand through his hair. “Plenty of time for that.”

Hashirama breathed out, still holding Madara tightly. “So, do you want to continue?”

The Uchiha reached between them, grabbing onto Hashirama’s apparent arousal and started palming it through the Senju’s sweats. “That’s not going to go away so easily.”

Hashirama moaned, biting down on Madara’s shoulder. He jumped at the harsh feeling of the Senju’s teeth scraping against his skin, holding back a groan. “I guess not.” His sweaty forehead pulled back from the Uchiha’s shoulder. “Fuck…” Hashirama didn’t hold back his voice when Madara pulled out the Senju’s cock, holding the thick appendage in his hand. His heart started to beat heavily again, pounding and reverberating in his ear as he wrapped his hand around the meaty flesh. The sensation of Madara gently stroking his cock with coarse, hardened hands drove Hashirama crazy, unable to keep himself quiet as the Uchiha played with him. Madara pulled back for a moment and the lack of heat left the Senju reeling for more contact. He watched as the Uchiha licked his palm, wetting it for better maneuvering. He spat into it next and Hashirama bit his lip, finding the sight overly erotic. Mingling with the drops of pre-cum dribbling from the slit, Madara started to jerk. His hand moved quickly, elegantly over Hashirama’s shaft; the Senju couldn’t stop himself from quaking at the contact. It was more than he could even describe. The moment he had been dreaming of for almost two years was finally within his own grasp.  

Hashirama shamelessly bucked into the Uchiha’s hands, seeking the friction. He captured Madara’s lips again, dipping his tongue in between the Uchiha’s petal soft lips. He shuddered at the contrasting feelings. Madara started to jerk him faster, feeling more confident about what he was doing. As far as Madara could tell, Hashirama seemed to be fine with whatever he was willing to do. He kept moaning into the Uchiha mouth, slurping at his lips and breaking the contact invariably when he arched his back. Madara found that his cock was straining at the reactions he was getting. Every moan, every whimper, it made Madara feel the need in his groin growing more and more desperate.

“Madara…” He kissed the Uchiha passionately then, their lips pushing together hard and needy. From the desperate fucking Hashirama was doing to his hand, Madara could only assume that he was close. He added a little pressure, awkwardly shifting his wrist to move faster. Suddenly Hashirama grabbed onto his wrist, stopping him completely.  “I’m about to…”

“Yeah, I figured. Why did you stop me?” Hashirama kissed him again; Madara could taste the needy tang on the Senju’s invading tongue.

“I just…” Madara sighed, rolling his eyes at Hashirama. He pulled off the rest of their clothes, exposing the full whiteness of his body to the Senju. It was well toned, every muscle and ridge to Madara’s body defined like he wasn’t even a real person but a sculpture. He was evenly pale too, no blemishes or mars stood out to Hashirama in the dim light. Madara felt more heat enter his cheeks as he looked at Hashirama’s body, noticing, for the first time, just how masculine and attractive he really was. In the shower, he’d been distracted by Hashirama’s honest and open eyes, he barely even noticed the Senju’s body.

Madara swallowed, reaching out to run his fingers against the defined abs of the Senju’s stomach. They both lived incredibly active lifestyles, but somehow Hashirama managed to hide just how strong he really was underneath his clothes.

The astonished yet appreciative look on Madara’s face egged Hashirama on, unable to contain his desire for the Uchiha. He touched Hashirama so gently with such course, strong fingers. Just the pads brushing against his skin was enough to cause twitches and strains in his muscles. He had to hold himself back as not to frighten Madara. But, eventually, Hashirama couldn’t help but run his hands down Madara’s entire body; without clothes to obscure him, every rush of adrenaline felt more like a shock of electricity. Before Hashirama could stop himself, he had reached Madara’s thighs, running his nails up the skin to the back of the Uchiha’s knees. Madara moaned, cock twitching at the sudden stimulation. The aggression and admiration in the touch set the Uchiha’s skin on fire with his own needs revealing themselves more and more.

“Hashi,” Madara smirked, “let me play a little more.” Settling Hashirama back so that he was sitting on his mattress, Madara moved forward, predatorily watching the Senju’s face as he wrapped his hand around Hashirama’s cock again. He captured Hashirama’s lips in a more than hungry kiss; it was crossing the bridge to desperate. Words wouldn’t be enough to express to Hashirama that Madara was feeling the moment and didn’t much care for his hesitance. Madara decided to assert himself if he wanted to get this going. With his free hand he grabbed the small hairs at the base of Hashirama’s neck, pulling back his head and exposing the tanned, delicious looking expanse of skin. Madara suckled and bit into the skin; Hashirama’s hands were tightly gripped on Madara’s biceps. 

Hashirama felt his stomach burn as the tantalizing whispers of release tickled at the edges of his body. Madara being so close to him, his cool skin pressing into his hot body, the heady shudders of his breath against Hashirama’s neck, and the skilled way Madara jerked him…It was all too much. With a breathless, nearly soundless choking cry, Hashirama came, coating Madara’s hand and stomach. “Jesus, dude, ever heard of jerking off?”

Before Madara could continue to complain about the mess Hashirama made, he was forced backwards. He let out a small sound of surprise, looking up into the Senju’s somewhat dazed and unsatisfied face. Madara heart started to race, a small wave of panic welling up from his stomach as a warning of what he was about to endure. Hashirama’s large hand came up to caress the Uchiha’s face, holding it gently as he leaned in. He wanted to kiss the Uchiha, but he knew that if he continued at this slow pace, Madara would gradually get cold feet and pull away from him. He moved so that he could kiss Madara’s neck, tasting the distant saltiness of the pale skin, savoring how Madara’s breath hitched and how he moaned when Hashirama’s teeth scratched along the column of his throat.

He moved slowly down from Madara’s neck to his chest, licking and nibbling all of the tantalizing flesh on his way downward. The Uchiha panted, shuddering and twitching with the sudden amount of attention he was getting. This was the skin Hashirama knew he could mark up, being that it could be obscured underneath clothes and he started to mar as much as he could; his kisses were harsh, turning into bruising sucks as he made his way down the Uchiha’s chest. Madara arched, weaving his hands into   Hashirama’s hair, unconsciously pulling and tugging at the locks with every pleasurable swipe of the Senju’s tongue. “You taste so good.” Hashirama muttered, nuzzling the Uchiha’s navel. Madara’s eyes opened as he realized just how close Hashirama’s mouth was to his cock, putting together the pieces of how far they really were going tonight. A drop of sweat coolly fell down his neck as he propped himself up on his elbows. He watched, nervously, forcing himself not to chew a hole through his lip as Hashirama’s strong grip enveloped his thighs, pulling them apart. He tried to slow his breathing, calm himself down as the Senju kissed along his happy trail, thumbs massaging his thigh muscles reassuringly as Hashirama tortured him with just proximity.

“Hashirama…” Madara shakily released out a long held breath, anticipation sparking his nerves to life when the Senju’s hot mouth neared his erection. It was dripping with need; neglect had made it stand proud, waiting to be touched.

“I love you.” Hashirama muttered, biting into the Uchiha’s thigh gently. The Senju started sucking and lapping at the bite mark as soon as he was finished, earning an incredibly drawn out moan from the Uchiha. Madara gripped the blankets underneath him, hands clawing them up and pulling them from the mattress. “So fucking beautiful. I love you so much.” Madara looked down at Hashirama, his large, dark eyes shining with a wash of sparkling emotion as he caught the ruddy stare of his lover. He took Madara into his mouth then and the Uchiha arched up, his heart hitting the top of his ribs; it pulsed rapidly under his skin, nervousness followed by an extremely satisfying wave of pleasure.

“Ahhhn, Hashi!” Madara was startled by the lewd quality his voice had taken, shaking with surprise that he could sound so lascivious.

Hashirama, not really knowing what he was doing, started to experiment with the cock in his grasp. He listened, watched, and took random guesses at what Madara would like. Every time the Uchiha’s breath hitched or he moaned, usually being Hashirama’s name, the Senju felt like someone was shocking him. Everything about the Uchiha was arousing; the way he tasted, the way he smelled, the way he voiced his pleasure. Hashirama could barely stand it. He wished he was more experienced so that he wouldn’t have to take random guesses as to what Madara would like, wanting to the Uchiha to be far more reassured as they continued. Madara was the one speeding everything along; they were probably going to try to have sex tonight, Hashirama felt light headed at the thought. He had no idea what he was doing and this was something that wasn’t as naturally intuitive as some things he had done. It would be touch and go from the very start and it scared Hashirama to think that he could very easily hurt Madara without much effort.

His hands shook around the base of Madara’s cock, taking in more of the pulsing flesh. At the very least, he could try to get Madara off once before they moved on. The Uchiha moaned and arched, hand falling over his eyes as he concentrated on the feeling of the warm mouth on his cock. He knees were shaking by Hashirama’s shoulders and the Senju found that a vulnerable Madara was incredibly cute and honest with his reactions. It was rare that he would let his emotions show but the Uchiha showed all of his pleasure with more than just his body; the way he whimpered and moaned, the small incoherent utterances of his lips as Hashirama sucked…Hashirama’s groin started to swell and ache with a resuming urge. 

Hashirama pulled his mouth away, sitting back on the heels of his feet. He leaned over Madara, the Uchiha started to regain some of his lost composure. The Senju, knowing he would have to begin this at some point, reached towards the nightstand, rummaging through a drawer. Madara knew what was happening and tried his best to keep his breathing and pulse under control. He had been the one who asserted this would happen, he was the one who said that Hashirama and he would be fucking tonight. His stomach started to churn and his erection slowly lost a bit of steam. Hashirama noticed that Madara seemed out of sorts and came back to the Uchiha’s mouth, kissing him with a fierceness. Tongues and teeth clashes as he attempted to distract Madara from what he was about to do; Hashirama knew kissing wouldn’t be enough but it was a first step.

“J-just go slow, okay?” Madara said, placing his hands against the Senju’s shoulders. He didn’t like how both his hands and voice shook. Hashirama ignored it, simply nodding his head.

“If it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Yeah…”

Hashirama leaned down, giving the Uchiha a chaste kiss. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

“Hn.” Madara tried to keep his face impassive and not let Hashirama know about the anxiety stirring in his gut but this was a completely new experience for the Uchiha. He actually felt afraid. Out of all the things Madara had done in his entire life, he never thought having sex with Hashirama would be the one that would actually scare him.

Hashirama could feel Madara’s knees shaking; they bumped into his sides as he poured lotion onto his fingers, warming it up with his skin before even thinking about leaning in and touching Madara with it. The Uchiha let out a shaky breath as Hashirama moved downwards, his mouth taking in Madara again. Swallowing hard, Madara slowly felt himself relax as the pleasure of the Senju’s hot mouth on his cock slowly brought him back to full hardness.

But then Madara felt the strange, wet sensation against his hole and he moved away out of reflex, kneeing Hashirama in the side of the head. The Senju sputtered, reeling for a moment as Madara completely stilled beneath him. Hashirama looked up from the Uchiha crotch, frowning. “A verbal signal would have sufficed!”

“I-I didn’t mean to!” Madara countered, “It was an accident, I swear!”

Hashirama sighed, “Listen it’s okay if we don’t go through with this tonight. I know you’re scared.”

“I’m completely fine. The wetness startled me, that’s all. Please continue.” Feeling even more embarrassed than he did before, Madara laid back so that he could only stare at the ceiling, trying to will the hotness in his cheeks to fade. He tried to relax as best he could but when Hashirama’s finger started to enter him, Madara couldn’t help the tensing in his back and the urge to resist. His eyes widened and biting down on his lip, the Uchiha tried to distract himself from the uncomfortable feeling.

He just had to be the bottom…Madara chastised himself for letting himself become the receptacle for their desires. He should have known this would be a bad idea and his nerves would get the better of him. Though, he doubted Hashirama would have fared much better as the bottom. Madara swore to himself he would get Hashirama back for this new form of embarrassment.

When the second finger slipped in, Madara winced, choking on his spit. He glared down at Hashirama who took the signal as a warning and slipped the Uchiha’s cock back into his mouth. Madara felt conflicted; the pleasure of Hashirama’s mouth was enough to keep him hard, but the finger’s digging around inside him, stretching and opening him, fought against all of the warmth and enj-

“ _Oh._ ”

“Oh?” Hashirama echoed. “Should I stop?”

“N-no, just touch there again.” Madara’s back arched as Hashirama pressed his fingers into that spot again and again. When the suction returned to his cock, Madara moaned. “ _Fuck_ , no more. I’m…”

Hashirama ruthlessly continued, adding a third finger to the mix. Madara didn’t even seem to notice, caught up with the burn in his stomach. He sucked Madara hard, using his free hand to jerk where his mouth couldn’t quite reach. Madara cursed loudly, hips rocking to gain the best access possible. Hashirama gagged a couple times but let Madara continue to thrust wildly, knowing Madara was lost to his own pleasure. Madara tightened up, fists pulling at the sheets so hard he untucked them from the mattress, orgasm bursting through his body.

Hashirama choked on the sudden amount of fluid entering his mouth and gagged from the taste. He turned his head away from Madara’s cock and swallowed as quickly as he could. “Ugh, did you really just swallow?”

“What else was I supposed to do with it? Spit it on the floor?” Hashirama re-positioned himself between the Uchiha’s legs, leaning in for a kiss. Madara turned his head to the side. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you don’t want to kiss me because of that!” Madara gave a skeptical look, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was your cum! I’d kiss you if you blew me!”

Madara rolled his eyes. “Whatever, fine.”

Hashirama sighed, shaking his head. He leaned in for the kiss and Madara didn’t pull away this time. Hashirama moved directly between Madara’s legs and the Uchiha tensed when he felt some hard brushing against his stretched hole. This was actually happening. This was real.

Madara could feel a bead of sweat drip from his forehead and down his neck. It was cold against his hot skin and he knew that after this was over there was no going back. There’s no way to undo the sex they were about to have. Swallowing hard, Madara braced himself, closing his eyes and laying back as Hashirama pulled back from the kiss. “Are you ready?” Madara just glared at the question; he’d never be fully ready for this. What they were doing was connecting at a physical level. A connection like that would radiate out into emotions and weave them together even more.

“Just hurry up, Hashirama.” Madara said in a snippy tone.

Hashirama shook his head. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m not forcing you.”

Madara sat up. “After all this build up, it would be disappointing not to.”  

The Senju gave a skeptical look. “As right as you are, that’s not the most compelling reason to do this.”

“If, right now, Hashirama, you give me yet another heart-wrenching confession, I will leave the room.”

Hashirama reeled for a moment, sputtering as he obviously clamped his mouth shut. “You’re so difficult sometimes. Why can’t you just admit-“

“Stop right there.” Madara said, lying back again. “I think we’ve talked enough for one evening.”

The Uchiha frowned when he heard under Hashirama’s breath something akin to ‘that’s what you always say’. He shook his head as Hashirama’s hands came to rest on his hips, pulling the Uchiha body closer to the Senju. He took a deep breath in and he could feel Hashirama’s hipbones digging into his thighs and the bulbous head of the Senju’s cock pressing against him. Madara swallowed heavily and began to reassure himself that, because Hashirama cock was just about as large as his own, this wouldn’t be nearly as bad as he was making it out to be.

Of course, Madara realized during each second of Hashirama pushing into him, he was wrong. Hashirama moaned into his ear, hot breath tickling his hair. It made the situation worse when the Uchiha clingingly wrapped his arms around Hashirama, pulling him even closer. Madara was forcing himself not to hurt Hashirama, trying to focus his attention on any and everything he could to make sure he didn’t just reel back and punch Hashirama in the face, or dig his nails in too deep, or strangle him. Madara knew, too, that Hashirama was going to misinterpret the Uchiha’s clinging as an urge to get closer. Which, to the Uchiha, was even more of a reason to strangle him.

Hashirama’s tongue slipped between Madara’s lip, hungrily devouring the Uchiha’s mouth as their kisses repeatedly devolved into wet, sloppy, open-mouthed moans and lip smacks. Madara felt kissing was probably the best way to distract himself from clenching down on Hashirama. He had relaxed and now, more than before, the pain was akin to a dull ache. Unintentionally, Madara bit Hashirama’s lip and blood spilled between their mouths, dampening their kisses even more. Hashirama hissed, more in a feral, passionate way than angry. Madara’s heart started to flutter when sensitive nerves inside of him were brushed for the first time; he tossed his head back, arousal once again filling his body. Hashirama moaned, biting down on the Uchiha’s neck. Even though Madara hadn’t wanted marks to show, he couldn’t deny the pleasure he was feeling from it now.

Hashirama was muttering something heatedly against the bruising skin of Madara’s neck and suddenly, Madara felt warmth fill him. He blinked as Hashirama slowly pulled out, realizing the Senju had just finished. Hashirama continued to kiss and suck at his neck, running his hands up and down Madara’s body. Madara moved out of Hashirama’s touch, allowing his heated and sweating body to cool on the other side of the bed. “Just as it was getting good, Hashirama, you blew it. Literally.” The Senju sat up at the ready to defend himself but the bright shine of Madara’s eyes and the dark shade to his cheeks seduced Hashirama.

“Let me make it up to you…” He said in barely a whisper and Madara found he couldn’t say ‘no’ to the mouth nearing his cock again.   
\-----

The morning after left Hashirama at sea in a wash of emotion. Madara found the melodramatics annoying since he was the only land where Hashirama’s fingers could make purchase. The Senju couldn’t stand watching Madara get out of his bed, put on his clothes, and start packing up his things. He pulled at the Uchiha’s shirt, making him back up slowly to the bed again, sitting once the backs of his knees hit the mattress. Gently, he tried to undress the Uchiha again, recapture the moment he’d received from last night. “That’s enough, Hashirama.”

“Don’t leave.” Hashirama muttered, his lips cascaded down Madara’s shoulders. “Please.”

“Hashirama, your parents are coming back tonight. I can’t stay.”

“You can live in my closet.” His voice was soft in Madara’s ears; despite the fact it was a ridiculous request, Madara’s pulse picked up.

“I am not a stray cat.” Madara assured with a slight shake of his head.

“Don’t go to her.” Madara stilled slightly in the Senju’s arm, feeling them wrap even tighter around him. “The thought of it, I can’t stand it.”

“What is plaguing that silly mind of yours now, Hashi?” Madara tried to pull out of Hashirama’s grasp but then the Senju’s grip only tightened. “No, really, what is it now? I don’t-“ The next thing Madara knew he was looking up at Hashirama’s face, his back pushed into the mattress. Blinking, the Uchiha started to watch the face above him, searching for the answers in the Senju’s open eyes. There was a look on Hashirama’s face, a look he could identify with, something deep and dark, something Madara himself had felt more than once. It was an intensifying ache that Madara felt even now. “What was it that you said to me? ‘Don’t be jealous’? Tell me, why are you jealous of your own wife?”

“She’s not my wife yet.”

“Indeed not. But my question still stands. There’s no reason for you to harbor those feelings towards Mito.” 

“When she looks at you, and she touches you, I-“ Hashirama hands shook; he wasn’t looking the Uchiha in the face. Madara started to laugh at the Senju’s words.

“I didn’t know you had taken a page out of my book.” Madara cupped Hashirama’s cheek. “I feel the same way when I see her look at you, when I watch her kiss you, but I have solace in the fact that, despite what is assumed, I have you. And you have me, and you’ve _had_ me. Isn’t that right?” Hashirama watched the Uchiha’s ruddy eyes become soft as he carded a hand through the Senju’s hair. “We know how we feel for each other.”

“Do I?” Hashirama pushed. “I’m fairly certain I’ve only heard the truth from you once. You’d rather make your emotions into puzzles for me to decipher.”

“I wouldn’t like you if you weren’t bright, Hashirama.”

“This contradicts many, many years of your previous statements, you know that, right?”

Madara shrugged, getting out of the Senju’s strangle hold and onto his feet again. The Uchiha was silent for a moment, a very serious yet not so grave look adorning his countenance. Madara was loking into Hashirama’s face, looking for something, eyes scanning over the Senju’s skin, his features, into his eyes and all the way down to his lips. He sighed. “How are we going to survive this, Hashirama?”

“What?”

“This.” Madara pointed between the two of them. “You and me; us. How are we going to survive?”

Hashirama was silent. He watched the calm, nearly unreadable look on the Uchiha’s face, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “This is more than enough for me. More than I could ask for, more than I could ever deserve. I love you so much. I do. I love you.” Madara tried to look away but the Senju grabbed his face, forcing Madara to look into Hashirama’s dark eyes. “I want to be with you always. If that means we have to pret-“

“Pretending is one things Hashirama. Little insight, I’m always pretending, always acting. And so are you; you’re not this perfect, jovial little person. You’re dark and you hurt. There are parts of you, you refuse to let me see. And I’m the person closest to you. Let’s face it, this won’t work. We have expectations. Our marriages, _children_. An affair may begin to lose it’s luster by that point.”

Hashirama slammed his hand down on the headboard, catching Madara off-guard. He jumped, moving into a somewhat more defensive stance as he turned to fully face the Senju. Hashirama had moved both hands to cover his mouth, but the Uchiha could see the muscles of the Senju’s jaw rocking. He was grinding his teeth with what Madara could only think was anger. He swallowed as Hashirama finally turned his eyes towards the Uchiha. “Why do you always _insist_ on pushing me out? Do you want to hurt me, Madara? Because I know you never really mean any of the hurtful things you say, you always regret it. So why-why even say it? You tell me I’m the one who always ruins things, but it’s you who ruins it.”

Madara had accidently backed himself into a wall as Hashirama got up from the bed. He grabbed onto the Uchiha wrists, making him stand chest to chest with the Senju. Hashirama leaned in and kissed Madara harshly. “Hashi-“ A tongue dipped into his mouth effectively silencing Madara. The Uchiha started to struggle, but Hashirama overwhelmed him. Madara grunted with displeasure as he ended up against the wall against, having been slammed into it by the Senju.

The Senju broke the kiss, tightening his grip on Madara’s wrists. “Stop running away.” Hashirama was angry and he was trying to expel his frustrations in a physical way that he thought wouldn’t hurt them; Madara knew better, however. Hashirama pulled back again, his hot breath against Madara’s cheek as he spoke. “I won’t let you be afraid of me, or this.” If this situation was allowed to continue, Hashirama would do something he’d regret. And at this point it seemed like the threat to Madara’s person by Hashirama’s hands was very real. The Uchiha stomped down on Hashirama’s foot, hard enough for Hashirama to pull away and give Madara enough room to head butt the Senju in the chin. Hashirama completely let Madara go, holding his face from how hard his teeth clacked together.

Madara panted, his face flushed with satisfaction and arousal. He licked his lips, composing himself while Hashirama worked through the pain with a string of curses. Madara was hoping that would snap Hashirama back into the right state of mind. The Hashirama he had just seen, that was where desperation met anger, where the urge to consume met the means to consummate. That Hashirama, he was sloppy and he was handsy, he was petrified. He thought kisses and force could beat sense into Madara about what their feelings meant and what reality was for them. Madara knew better.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” Hashirama pulled his hand back and his teeth were red with blood, it dribbled down on his chin and he flexed his jaw, flinching. Madara felt a pang in his gut and one in his chest. He took a step forward and Hashirama just watched as the Uchiha closed the distance. “Madara?” The Uchiha licked the blood from Hashirama’s chin and shoved the Senju back onto the bed, climbing on top of him, straddling his lap. The raven’s eyes were muddled with passion, half-lidded as he gently carded his fingers through the Senju’s long hair. Hashirama grabbed Madara’s wrist again, bringing the pale hand to his mouth and kissing each knuckle. “I thought you had ‘enough’?”

“As if this could be enough for me. It’ll never be enough.”

\---

Muttering filled the house as Madara stepped through the threshold. His face was a mask, not a single hint of emotion could be seen, but everyone seemed to know he was nervous. And why wouldn’t he be? Madara had betrayed his own father and then ran away from home. Some of his cousins were huddled around the table in the living room, speaking in harsh whispers as Madara passed by the archway. They were only silent when Madara was in view, but resumed speaking when he had gone.

The Uchiha swallowed as he got to the bottom of the stairs, looking upwards and towards his father’s office. Undoubtedly, his father would be angry. He could already imagine the slew of curses and the insults he would spew. Madara braced himself as he ascended the staircase, not saying a word or even looking back. He knocked twice before getting an acknowledged greeting. Tajima looked over his shoulder, setting his drink down on the mantel of the fireplace. He turned so that he could fully face Madara. Neither of them said a word and just stood there for a moment, the only sound coming from the crackling of the fireplace.

Tajima spoke first, “I knew you would return.”

“Where else could I go?” Madara asked. “This is my home, after all.”

Tajima scoffed, nodding his head. He grabbed his drink again, taking a sip. “Yes, it is indeed.” Madara watched his father polish off his drink and hold the cup out, signaling to Madara he wanted a refill. “Bourbon, straight. Three fingers.”

He filled the glass promptly, handing it back to his father. Tajima nodded his thanks, holding the glass close to his chin as he looked at his son. “I do believe, Madara, that you have something to say to me.” Tajima said, his eyes were full of accusations and Madara almost laughed at the look.

“Yes, well, I do suppose I overreacted the last time we spoke. Forgive me.” His tone was icy and insincere.

Tajima squeezed the glass in his hand, it did not break, however. “You overreacted?”

Madara shrugged. “It is the best way to put it, I would think.”  

With a sigh, Tajima turned away from Madara and set his glass down, hands both resting on the fireplace mantel. “Of all the things I am grateful for, it has to be that your mother wasn’t alive long enough to see you turn into a-“

Madara grabbed his father by the front of his collar, pulling him close. “Don’t finish that sentence. You’re drunk and that was cold, even for you. A new record of low. It would be better if you remembered that I am capable of violence against you; I will give you another bone to match your arm.” Madara’s voice decreased in volume, nearly speaking in a whisper. It made him seem more intense; his voice matching the muted anger his eyes sparkled with.

“Is this how it’s going to be between us now, Madara? Are you going to hate me?” Madara was taken aback by the question. “Do you think I wanted things to be like this?” Tajima shook his head, anger swirling around in his eyes. “I remember the day you came to me and told me that you wanted to start going to public school. I could feel you slipping through my fingers. So I protected us-the clan-by separating you out of the heir pool. But then Izuna followed you; he wants to be just like you.” Tajima picked up his glass again. He threw it against the wall suddenly; Madara repressed the surprised jump and stared at his father. “You have so much influence in this family, Madara, and yet you seem to see none of it. I remember my wild days of youth; they were nothing like yours. Your absentmindedness about us-your family-will lead to our downfall. Your brother needs you more than ever; he needs you to guide him. He’s still so young, still so naïve about the world and the clan matters.”

Madara felt an ache in his chest and he looked away from his father, choosing to stare at his feet, ashamed of himself. He had let himself get caught up in the trivialities of less important relationships. His father was right; as it stood, Izuna was the most important person not just for the clan, but for Madara himself. Swallowing, Madara numbly nodded his head. “You’re right.”

“And that,” Tajima began, “is how I knew you’d come back. Even though you’ve been letting yourself slip, you always manage to find the correct path again. But something like this cannot be forgiven so easily or be taken lightly.” Madara nodded again, not speaking a word. “I have a job for you.”

Madara raised an eyebrow. “In the casino?”

Tajima shook his head. “No, you’re about five years too young to be working in that environment. Even we have certain regulations that are adhered to. It would be giving the government too much if we started letting our younger members work there.” Madara watched as his father leaned over, grabbing a file from a drawer in his desk. He handed it to the younger Uchiha. “The next few months will be very crucial to us, Madara. And I honestly didn’t want to assign you to this task but I figured you may as well get your feet wet, see what we really do.”

“And punish me at the same time.” Madara muttered.

Tajima shrugged. “You probably would have ended up on this mission regardless.”

“Okay then, what exactly am I looking at?” Madara had opened the file and briefly glanced over the contents, knowing he would really have much more time to read it later. He would get the gist now and finish with the minor details at his leisure.

“The Senju are plotting something; they’ve rented a warehouse on the outskirts of their territory, very close to the edge of the neutral zone. From what we’ve gathered, it is where the Senju receive their gun shipments. They have the habit of moving their sites every year or so because they fear us destroying their stockpile. This is the first time in a long time we’ve gotten the drop on them.” Tajima smirked in a triumphant way, like their plan had already come together. “I’ve been sending infiltration teams to get information about this warehouse and it seems to have passcodes, locked doors that cannot be picked, armed guards, and whatever else you can think of to keep people out.” Madara nodded, listening thoughtfully. His father had paused as if formulating what to say next. “Your job, Madara, will begin when the infiltration team brings back any useful information about the locks and the passcodes; you’ll have to deal with the guards yourself.”

Madara bit his lip, “Understood.” He paused for a moment, watching his father’s face. “But I may have a suggestion. The infiltration team should be disbanded.” Before Tajima could say a word in protest, Madara held up his hand. “Listen first, if any member of the infiltration team is caught or killed on the property, the Senju will know we’re onto them. So, we should handle this as much outside the Senju property as possible. If you allow me to go to that public school again, I believe I can get the passcodes and keys.”

“How is school going to help you, Madara? I doubt a crash course in calculus will enable you to build a key capable of opening any lock.”

“True, but manipulating Hashirama is plausible, with some time. You saw how easily I managed to enter the Senju compound. He trusts me completely.”

Tajima thought about this, folding his hands together and resting his chin on folded fingers. “Yes, I do suppose that could work. But I’m giving you a timeframe, two months should be enough time, don’t you think?”

Madara swallowed, forcing himself to smile in a sly way. “Consider it done.”    
\---

Madara sat in his car for what felt like an eternity. There was a cancerous feeling gnawing at his gut as he viewed the school in his peripheral. When everything was said and done, Madara knew the only words he could say to Hashirama were “I told you so.”

Madara didn’t flinch or jump when he heard excited tapping against his window. Hashirama was standing by the driver’s side door, so when Madara opened the door, he practically stepped into Hashirama’s too tight hug. The Uchiha did not see hide nor hair of the Uzumaki who generally accompanied the Senju in the morning. He supposed it would make things easier for him to set this plan into motion.

“Just how did you convince your father to let you come back?” Hashirama asked, finally letting the Uchiha go.

Madara turned his head and three different cars opened their doors, with twelve different Uchiha stepping out. “That’s how. I have my own personal posse.”

“Ah.” Hashirama looked towards the front of the school where a group of his cousins stood completely still, all of their eyes widening at the sudden and very large Uchiha presence on campus. “Is this really going to be good for us?”

“It was this or home-schooling again. Take your pick, Hashi.”

Hashirama and Madara hadn’t moved. Out of the view of everyone, Hashirama’s fingers gently brushed against Madara’s hand and he smiled softly towards the Uchiha. “I’m so happy, Madara. You don’t even know.”

“I love you, Hashirama.”

The Senju smiled widely, looking dreamily at the Uchiha. Madara felt a pain sink into his gut as he looked into such deep, wonderful eyes. He didn’t know if he could do this. Forcing himself to present a realistic smile, Madara returned the gesture, and that seemed to enrapture Hashirama more. “You come back to school, tell me you love me, and you’re smiling? It must be my birthday. I don’t know how else I could get so many good things in a row.”

Madara placed his hand delicately on Hashirama shoulder. “You deserve nothing but the best, Hashi.”

“Same goes for you.” Hashirama frowned when he spotted Mito encroaching on their moment. “I wish I could kiss you right now, but we’ll save the fun stuff for later.” Hashirama winked and the Uchiha rolled his eyes.  

“Looks like our panic was short-lived.” Mito commented. She smiled very gently towards Madara. “Can’t say I’m too upset that you’re back.”

“I’m telling you Mito, an affair is just a kiss away.” The Uzumaki smirked at the comment, cupping the Uchiha’s face in her hand. She gripped Madara’s chin between her thumb and pointer finger, pulling him very close to her face.

“Perhaps one day I’ll take you up on that offer.” Mito smirked, practically throwing Madara’s face out of her hand. She linked arms with Hashirama and smiled warmly at him. “Now then, let’s head inside before the war between your cousins begins.”

“Why can’t we all just get along?” Hashirama complained as he turned with Mito towards the entrance of the school.

“Life wouldn’t be nearly as interesting if we were all ordinary people.”

“Whatever.” Madara slipped back so he was walking behind Hashirama and Mito. He felt a lump building up in his throat and a horrible emotions eating away at his gut. He wanted to vomit but continued walking forward, completely stone faced. It would be over in a matter of months; Madara had to tell himself that. But Madara knew, Hashirama would find out eventually.

Madara didn’t know if they would survive this.


	5. The Gamble p.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mito becomes curious about the woman Madara is engaged to, and proposes a double-date. But things are not as simple as they appear-Hashirama feels insecure about meeting this new woman, spurred even more by his own jealousy of Mito who seems to fit Madara more than he ever could. Dejected, but still full of longing, Hashirama endures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYYY YO SUPER IMPORTANT TO READ:  
> HETERO MOMENTS AHEAD-Mito and Hashirama tryna get the nasty going and so are Madara and his fiancee. Don't say I didn't warn you, also, if everyone hates them enough or doesn't find them productive, I'll either write them out or find a way to make them less...graphic? They're not even really graphic-they're pretty short and there isn't even sex so idk, i don't want to startle anyone tho.
> 
> So this chapter isn't even technically finished. I wanted it to be a really long chapter to make up for the time I hadn't been writing for it, but as it is, it's 20 pages long. I figure that's a bit too long to keep going(in good conscience) So I decided I'm just going to upload it in 2 parts. It'll give me time to finish the other half of it and it'll technically be like 2 updates for the price of one. 
> 
> "Gambling is not a vice, it is an expression of our humanness. We gamble. Some do it at the gaming table, some do not. You play, you win, you play, you lose. You play.” THE PASSION, JEANETTE WINTERSON

“You wanna meet Katsuko?”

Hashirama turned his face towards Mito, who was completely stoic. She nodded her head once. “Sometimes I feel you just hide behind the idea, I want to see her.”

“Why? Ya worried she’s prettier than you, Uzumaki? ‘Cause she totally is!” Madara turned his head slightly; his cousin, who was too close anyway, would caught just the edge of Madara’s eye. The entire group of Uchiha behind Madara froze up, sitting silently at their table.

Mito’s cheek had slight color to them as if she was scandalized by the accusation. “AS IF! I-I…” She paused, collecting herself as she met Madara’s eye. “I thought maybe it would be nice to have another couple to go on dates with.”

“Um, Mito, honey, there’s a big problem with that though.” Hashirama was smiling sheepishly, as if trying to abate the obviously annoyed look taking over Mito’s face.

“Oh? And what’s that, Hashi- _honey_?” Hashirama’s lips seemed as though they would be sealed for all eternity when he caught the Uzumaki’s cold eye. Mito was holding onto his hand with a vice-grip, smiling gently, but Madara knew she was challenging Hashirama to defy her. Hashirama needed a stronger back bone.

“Mito, you don’t like me.” Madara chimed in.

“Sure I do!” She shot back.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment and Madara heard a snip of ‘damn, ya hear that, the Uzumaki wants the boss’s junk.’ All of his cousins were snickering. Mito’s face was hot red, her fists clenched. She stood up suddenly and jumped up on the table, flipping over Madara’s head so she was standing at the Uchiha table. All of them were frozen as they watched Mito slammed her hand down onto the fake wood, smiling viciously.

“Which one of you boys wants to meet me after school to settle the matter?” All of them passed each other glances, saying nothing. Mito smiled again. “Looks like you’re gunna have to line-up then,” she slapped her hand down on the Uchiha closest to her causing him to lurch forward. “I’m gunna have to give you all a couple love taps.” She cracked her knuckles for good measure.   

“Mito, enough. Ignore them. You’re going too far.”

She turned towards Madara then. “Maybe it’s you who needs the love tap.”

“You go, Mito!” One of the female Senju’s hollered. The Senjus sitting behind Hashirama were getting equally rowdy, Hashirama turned as if to settle them but they seemed to ignore him, preferring to focus on Mito’s blood lust.

“Oh, been there done that, Mito.” Madara snipped, barring his teeth as he spoke. The Uchiha’s behind him ‘ooo’ed and whooped under their breaths, making Mito’s face hot again. “Stop stomping around and starting shit, like a no-good brat.”

All the patience in Mito snapped and she lurched towards Madara. In the blink of an eye, Madara grabbed Mito’s wrist pulling her forward and knocking her off balance. The Uchiha noticed Mito would slam her face into the lunch table because of the fall and cursed under his breath. He swept Mito off her feet, pulling her into his lap. His free hand grabbed her around the knees so she wouldn’t hit the table during the maneuver. “Jesus, Mito, be more careful.”

Mito stared up at Madara’s very close face, her wrist still tightly in Uchiha’s grasp. She used her free hand to wedge between her and Madara, giving him an unexpected uppercut. Madara dropped her like she had burnt both of his hands, swearing to himself as he held a hand to his mouth, blood dripping from between his fingers.

“Teacher, teacher, _teacher_!” Hashirama hissed through locked teeth.

Madara and Mito froze in place before scrambling back to their seats at the table. Madara continued to hold his hand against his mouth and Mito straightened out her appearance. She glanced at Madara for a moment before furiously digging in her purse. She handed him a wad of tissues and he pressed it against his mouth.

“Um, Madara, you okay there?” The teacher was standing right next to their table. Mito and Hashirama froze, looking desperately at Madara’s face. He pulled the tissue away, smiling lightly.

“Yeah, no problem. I just bit my tongue a little.”

“That’s more blood than just ‘a little’, don’t you agree?”

Madara reached into his pocket, removing his wallets so he could grab a wad of bills. He shoved them into the teacher’s front pocket. “That enough to convince you it was ‘a little’?”

“Carry on then.”

Everyone sighed. Madara opened his mouth, flexing his jaw as he did so. “ _Why the fuck did you hit me?_ ” Madara hissed at Mito.

She was frowning. “I lost my temper.”

“That actually wasn’t my point.” Hashirama rushed out, as if he was trying to break the tension between Mito and Madara. They both caught Hashirama in their gaze; the Senju could feel sweat beading up on his brow as if he had just issued the two of them a challenge. All of their anger towards each other flipped the switch, aiming for Hashirama instead. “Uh, it’s just that…”

“What Hashirama?”

“Just spit it out.”

Hashirama felt that they were living up to what he was about to say. “The two of you…Kinda…gang up on me. And I’m worried Madara’s fiancée would also side with the two of you.”

Mito and Madara shared a look. “Maybe if we had a third person to judge you, you’d stop wearing argyle.” Madara replied.   

Hashirama’s mouth hung open from the comment as Mito laughed under her breath. “I was thinking Saturday we could see a movie together.”

“This Saturday?”

“Yeah.”

“It might be a little short notice, but I can talk to her tonight when I see her.”

“You’re seeing her tonight?” Hashirama asked a little breathy.

“Perfect.” Mito clapped her hands together. She was smiling and there was a genuine giddiness to it that was very unlike her. She then looked a little sheepish when she asked, “Oh and Madara,” The Uchiha raised an eyebrow, “can I borrow your English homework?”

“Can you die instead?” Madara snipped back.

“Oh come on, it’s just a little favor!”

“YOU PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Lying is unbecoming in a woman.”

“Madara, I will add a couple injuries to the list if you don’t comply with my simple request.”

Madara stood up as soon as the bell to signify lunch was over. He smirked at Mito, his teeth still red from the blood coating them. “Looks like English is next and you don’t have anything done, Mito. Should have spent your time more wisely.” Madara laughed wickedly as he grabbed his bag and headed off towards class, leaving Mito and Hashirama sitting at the table.

Mito mumbled something rude under her breath before she shot out of her seat, grabbing her purse and notebook before scampering off after Madara. She stopped for a brief moment, turning to kiss Hashirama on the cheek. “We’re going home together, okay?” Before Hashirama could even answer, Mito was running after Madara. “Uchiha, come back here!”

Hashirama watched as their backs faded into the hall. The last clear thing he could see of them was Madara covering his ears and Mito hanging off of his arm, trying to get him to listen to her. Hashirama felt a pang in his chest as he watched the raven get farther and farther away. He turned towards a kid throwing away his lunch. “You wanna make fifty bucks?” Hashirama asked; the boy looked up, smiling.

0o0o0o0

“You rang?” Madara asked as he walked into the men’s room.

“That was fast.”

“Your little friend decked another kid in my class, in the face.” Madara said folding his arms over his chest. “Wasn't hard to slip away.”

Hashirama’s face softened a little as he closed the space between them. He pressed his mouth into Madara’s temple.

“What is it?”

“Hmmm?”

“Surely you didn't hire a goon just to make-out with me. We have like twenty minutes to do that after school.”

“Mmm, Mito wants to hang out after school.”

“Ah.” Madara turned towards the mirror and examined his gums in the mirror. There wasn’t blood on his teeth anymore but a dull ache remained when he opened his mouth. Hashirama came up behind him, large hand grabbed the Uchiha’s shoulder, forcing him to turn around.

“Maybe I couldn't wait.” But Hashirama didn’t approach more, leaving a space between them. His lips trembled just enough for the Uchiha to catch it. Madara gave Hashirama a skeptical look. “Alright you caught me, I was worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because Mito hit you pretty hard.” Hashirama cupped the Uchiha cheek causing him to sigh. He turned towards Hashirama’s open palm and kissed it. The Senju flushed.

“Don't be so worried, Hashi, I’m fine. Besides, this wouldn't be the first time Mito’s punched me in the face. Remember, last year? When she slammed my head into a locker?” Madara watched the Senju’s face, sensing the subtle changes in his brow and lips. “What is it really? You can’t hide it from me.”

“You're right. You're too good at reading me…After we’ve gloriously had sex,” Madara’s expression quickly changed to alert Hashirama he was annoyed with his point already. “Uh, keeping secrets from you had been a bit difficult because we’re so connected now.” Madara kept the snide comment to himself. Hashirama sighed in finality, braving himself to relay his thoughts. “I don't know if I’m ready to meet her.”

Madara blinked, opening and closing his mouth. A million thoughts raced through his head, even more hurtful words marching on his tongue. Madara laughed derisively. “Oh? But me having to know Mito and play nice with her, that's required?”

“Don’t be like that. You met Mito before we were even engaged.”

“Yes, but because of you, I have to hang out with her but still pretend…” Madara waved between himself and Hashirama, “that this isn't happening and that it then means nothing.”

“Madara, please…” The Uchiha pulled away, scoffing as he did so. He turned his face away from Hashirama, hiding his hurt and his anger. “Don't walk away from me.”

Madara straightened his back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Does that mean we’re not going to make-out?” The bathroom door slammed shut.

0o0o0o0o

“And what makes you think I want to meet Hashirama and his girlfriend?” Katsuko asked, she was picking at one of her nails, chipping away at the red polish. She flicked her vision upwards, impassive and unimpressed with Madara’s request. She did not look like she would acquiesce.

“Fiancée.” Madara corrected. She folded her arms across her chest, the motion pushing her breasts upward. They were more pronounced underneath the tightness of her shirt. She expectantly looked for an answer, a well sculpted eyebrow arched. “And Mito does have a point, maybe it would be a little more interesting to do things with another couple.”

“They’re Senjus, Madara.”

“Mito is still an Uzuamki.”

“Quit splitting hairs with me, Madara. It’s annoying.”

Madara sighed, sitting down next to her on his bed. He reached out for her hands, which were just as pale as his own. She tried to hide the flush of her cheeks. “I know this is sudden and that we’ve only been together like this for a year, but I think this is a really good way for us to get to know each other. We don’t get to spend a lot of time together as is, I just thought it would be nice if you could…See into my world a little.”

Katsuko flushed, nearly her whole face red as Madara leaned in, giving her a gentle kiss. “I-I guess it could be fun.” She said, not able to meet Madara’s strong and steady gaze. “Yeah, it’ll be nice.”

“I’m glad. I really do appreciate this, Kat.” She turned her head towards Madara, smiling softly.

“It’s nothing.” Her voice was steady and gentle as she reached out for Madara’s face. The tips of her fingers brushed softly against his cheekbones and up to his temples. She let her fingers rest in his hair, pulling him forward. Right before their lips met, she whispered, “it just means you’ll have to do something extra special on our date tonight.”

Madara pulled back a little, folding his arms over his chest. He tried to hide his smile but couldn’t. Katsuko was smiling too, but hers was more of mirth and satisfaction. “Only the best for you.”

She laughed. “With that kind of attitude, any kids of ours are going to be spoiled rotten.”

Madara flushed at the accusation. “W-well maybe I want them to be.” Madara’s hand slipped lower into Katsuko’s lap, his cool fingers splaying against her thigh. “Speaking of kids…” She smirked, pressing her lips against his. She moved into his lap, using the weight of her upper body to push Madara back. He gripped the backs of her thighs, hands slipping up her skirt as she leaned forward. Katsuko was tugging at Madara’s shirt, her fingers toying with the lithe muscles of his stomach. She moaned when Madara started to knead her ass, leaning up to bite her nipples through her shirt.

She could feel his hardness pressing into her and she rocked against him. “Madara…” She moaned. He leaned up, weaving his fingers into black hair. It was soft to the touch, running like water through his fingers. Madara’s mind drifted to…

Hashirama…

His heart skipped a beat, in both horror and arousal.

“Madara…” She whined. His eyes were shining bright red as he looked into her face, desire dancing in the air they shared around them. Her fingers were pulling at his shirt, removing it for him. She grabbed at the hem of her shirt too, tossing it away. He followed the clump of fabric with his eyes and saw a shadow underneath the crack of his door. One that seemed to be staying in the same place for a long time…Listening…

“Take off the rest of your clothes.” She demanded; she was unhooking the clasp of her bra waiting for Madara to make his move but he seemed to be at a standstill. “What?”

Madara leaned up, looking around at his door. “IZUNA!” They heard a thump and feet running away from the door. “Hold on a second.” Madara said, slinging Katsuko off his lap. She watched as Madara ran out the door, slamming it behind him. After a few seconds of complete silence, she heard Izuna’s screams from the next room. Katsuko slipped her shirt back on, sighing. The damn kid deserved it; he’d ruined a very good, very sexy moment between them.

When Madara stepped back into the room, he was grumbling something under his breath, his fists still clenched at his sides. He sat back down next to Katsuko, reaching out to kiss her again but she pulled away. “Sorry, he kinda of ruined the moment.” She noticed it then, a bruise on junction of Madara’s neck and shoulder. It was light, mostly yellowed by now but she still saw it. She stood up then, moving away from Madara while straightening her skirt. It was definitely big enough to be…

“Let’s just go on our date.” Her face was still a little flushed from the arousal, and even more so from the shock. Madara sighed, standing up. He redressed himself, grabbed his leather jacket from the post on his bed and his keys, holding the door for Katsuko as they left.

0o0o0o0o

Madara stared at the phone in the kitchen, hanging from the wall with its white looped cord dangling so far down it nearly reached the counter. The cooks behind him were staring but he didn't know how else to broach the situation.

“Madara, you usually have to push the little buttons to make the phone work.” said one of the cooks from behind him. He turned, a slight flush on his cheeks. She smiled slyly in return.

“I know that, I’ve used a phone before.”

“Then what's the hold up?” She was an older Uchiha woman who had apparently been a friend of Madara’s mother. But he remembered so little of his mother at this point that the woman slowly coming over to him may as well have been her.

Madara was quiet and she placed a pale hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “Is it because you’re going to call your girlfriend?”

The Uchiha frowned, “No. I already saw her earlier.”

She gave a slightly skeptical look to Madara. “Is it that Senju boy?”

“Maybe.” He looked away.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Why don’t you just take the phone into your room then? You have a phone plug in there somewhere.”  

Madara’s lips thinned into a line. “Won’t tell father?”

She smiled at Madara. “You didn’t tell him when I dropped his sandwich the other night. I’ll call us even.”

Madara quickly and as silently as possible, removed the phone from the wall. He walked back to his room, keeping the cord from dragging on the ground. Once inside, he pulled his bed away from the wall and leaned over the side, feeding the cord into the slot. He took a deep breath; this was a very dangerous act. The only person in the entire house allowed to make direct contact and call the Senju family was his father, but Madara really had no choice in the matter.

He pulled a little slip of paper from his pocket; in neat handwriting he had quickly copied the number when his father had stepped out of his office an hour or so ago.

“I’m going to regret this, I’m sure.” Madara muttered dialing the number.  


0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hashirama grumbled angrily to himself as he set his coat on the hanger in the hallway, Mito following in behind him. “Stop complaining to yourself, Hashi, it’s annoying.” Hashirama had to out of sorts all night and even throughout their entire date, Mito had put up with Hashirama’s inconsistent and fragile mood. She grit her teeth as she stepped in front of him, her arms folded across her chest. “If you’re going to say something, say it to my face.”

“I don’t see why you have to do things without consulting me!”

“Oh? Why is it such a big deal that I asked Madara to meet his girlfriend? Shouldn’t you be happy? It’ll give us more time to see him.”

Hashirama was silent for a moment, mulling it over. “I guess, but you don’t actually care about stuff like that.”

“Maybe I thought it would be nice for you, Hashirama.”

“Heh? Me?”

“Yes, stupid. If it makes you happy, then I’m more than content with listening to whatever that Uchiha girl wants to chat about so you can hang out with Madara.”

"Why would you do that?" Mito raised an eyebrow at the comment in a patronizing way. 

"Because I-" Mito stopped herself for a moment, swallowing. She turned her head. "I love you, I guess. And I want you to be happy."

“Mito, you’re the best!” The red head smiled to herself trying to turn away to seem coy as Hashirama grabbed her hand, pulling it up to his mouth, covering it in kisses.

“Stop it, Hashi!” Mito squealed, her face flushing. She was trying not to laugh too loudly as Hashirama pulled her into his arms, He littered kisses across her cheeks and face and she pretended to struggle, play fighting with him. But that’s when Hashirama pressed her into the front door, his hand cushioning the back of her head. Hashirama’s lips were hot on hers. Mito’s hands moved up to Hashirama’s shoulder so she could embrace him, pulling him in just that much more.

His chest rubbed against hers and she gasped into their kiss, opening her mouth just enough for Hashirama to brush her tongue with his own. She shuddered against the larger body, head starting to lose its composed thoughts. His free hand was tracing up from Mito’s hip, coming to cup her chest. Mito’s fingers dug into Hashirama’s shoulder.

With his mouth on top of hers, Mito’s moans were swallowed up by Hashirama. He pulled back, using both hands to fondle her breasts through the thin material of her dress. Mito put a hand over her mouth as Hashirama ground his thumbs into her nipples; she quaked with desire. “You’re not wearing a bra.” Hashirama observed, he slid his lips against Mito’s neck, sucking behind her ear. His hot breath on her skin making it flush.

“S-shut up, the bra lines look super uncool in this dress.”

“I’m not complaining.” There was a smirk to Hashirama’s voice, not that Mito could see it with his face buried against her neck.

“Hashi, what about…?”

“Shhh, don’t worry. Dad’s out late tonight and Tobirama is in his room, he won’t come out now.”

“We’ve never gone this far before.” Hashirama pulled his mouth away from Mito’s neck. His hands lowering to where skin of her thighs could be seen from the dress. His fingertips whispered against her skin, gently, smooth. He kissed her softly.

“We don’t have to go any farther than normal.” Hashirama said with a comforting smile. “I’m not going to force you to do something that will make you uncomfortable.”

“Hashi…” Her thumbs rubbed against Hashirama’s face and she leaned in, kissing him chastely on the lips. “I’m so lucky to have you.” She looked away for a second, wrapping her leg around Hashirama’s hip, pushing him against her. The movement lifted up her dress, giving Hashirama move room for his hands to explore. “We can…You know…” She reached down and rubbed at Hashirama’s apparent arousal through his jeans.

“Are you sure?” Mito sighed, grabbing Hashirama’s hand and pushing it down her underwear. Hashirama was more than spurred on by the gesture, using his free hand to lift Mito’s leg higher and hold her more securely against him. He worked quickly, or maybe Mito’s head felt the speed was dizzying because of her arousal.

She jumped when Hashirama started pulling at the zipper on the back of her dress. She pulled her arms out and let her breasts be exposed fully to Hashirama. He started sucking on her nipples as soon as he could see them. Mito couldn’t hold back the moan she’d been trying to silence. His fingers and mouth were slowly undoing her composure.  

“Where does it feel good, Mito?” He’d finally released her nipple. It was discolored and bruised from the sucking but Mito didn’t seem to notice nor care. She tried to move against Hashirama’s hand but couldn’t quite reach the spot. Hashirama sank his finger in deeper, curling it. Mito arched. “There?” He asked, flicking the spot repeatedly.

“That’s good, Hashi.” She arched, grinding her teeth to keep quiet. Hashirama watched her face, how she bit her lip and unintentionally groaned lowly. A flash of Madara’s flushed face passed through Hashirama’s mind and his cock ached.

Hashirama flinched as Mito straightened, “What is it?” She was panting, face completely red. She swallowed the excess saliva building up in her mouth.

The Senju smiled weakly, feeling unbearably hot. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just…Uhh, really aroused and it kinda hurts?” 

Mito nodded her head; in a soft voice she proposed: “Well, maybe we should move to your bedroom, right?”

“Hey Hashirama, Madara’s on the phone…For you…“ Tobirama stopped right in his tracks catching Mito’s eye first before Hashirama turned his head towards the living room. Tobirama stared, his face flushing as soon as all the pieces of the visual puzzle started to fall together; his heart beat picked up as a wash of horror filled him. Tobirama wasted no time in turning on his heel and escaping as fast as possible.

“TOBIRAMA, I CAN EXPLAIN!”

“DON’T CALL HIM BACK HERE, YOU IDIOT, HASHIRAMA!” Mito was struggling to slip her arms back into her dress. She pulled up her underwear and fixed the hem of her dress. Hashirama stood in silence for a moment, shame and embarrassment gnawing at his stomach. “Are you gunna get that?”

“What?”

Mito smoothed her hair. “Madara is on the phone.”

“Ah…right…” Hashirama willed whatever was left of his erection away as he walked into the kitchen, grabbing the phone placed down on the counter. He put it against his ear. “Hello?”

 _“Took you long enough, Hashirama.”_ Hashirama felt a shock to his system hearing Madara’s voice, another and sudden wave of arousal filling him. His fingers shook, desire taking root deeply in his stomach. _“I’ll make this quick.”_ Hashirama knew he was misconstruing the entire situation but for some reason his brain couldn’t stop adding the layer of sexual promises to Madara’s words. _“If it’s okay with you, I have a request.”_

“Y-yeah?” Hashirama had a brief moment

_“I need Mito’s phone number.”_

Hashirama opened and closed his mouth, a cold feeling in the pit of stomach. “What?”

 _“Not for the reason you think.”_ Madara assured but Hashirama still felt a sickness in his stomach. _“She’s the one planning this date, I figured I’d work out the details with her.”_

“What does he want?”

“To talk to you.” Hashirama said dejectedly. He handed Mito the phone and she cleared her throat.

“What do you want, Uchiha?” She made a motion for Hashirama to get closer to her. She turned the phone so both of them could hear.

_“Katsuko says she’s willing to meet.”_

Hashirama and Mito shared a look. “Really?”

_“Yeah, I just had to get all sentimental and tell her that this is a really good way to get to know each other. All women are weak to that kind of bullshit.”_

Hashirama turned his head slightly and only briefly caught the murderous look in Mito’s eye. “Tomorrow, me and you, after school. I’m going to kill you.”

_“Sure, I’ll mark the date with a heart.”_

Hashirama felt a strangeness fill him when Madara and Mito argued. He knew at its peak it was far more than casual teasing, but the way Mito’s face flushed and her voice deepened and changed depending on her level of surprise, it seemed as though she was…Pretending to dislike Madara…

Would Katsuko be like that too? Play fight and mockingly argue with Madara in front of everyone? Would she be brash and kiss him where everyone could see them? Was she beautiful? Could she know more about Madara than them? Or even more than Hashirama, himself?  

But the main question Hashirama found himself dancing around the entire time was: Would he be able to hide it?

Madara seemed to have no issues at all. He may have complained about how it was difficult to hide sometimes but he never let it slip, never let it show. And even though Madara was convinced Mito knew about them, in private, there were no accusations and she was tolerating him more and more. It was because of Hashirama that Madara believed Mito knew in the first place…So, would Katsuko also pick up on it?

“I know it’s not really the season, but they’re playing _Night of the Living Dead_ at the theater. I figured you’d probably be smoking so it would give you something to laugh at.”

_“Which reminds me: did you want me to bring something for you and Hashirama?”_

“In what sense?”

_“To take the edge off. I can get my hands on anything you want.”_

Mito and Hashirama both shared another look. “Up to you, Hashi. I’ll probably just smoke with Madara.”

“We can just smoke, then.”

_“Ooo, Hashirama’s finally becoming a bad kid like us, Mito.”_

“It only took sixteen years.” Mito replied with a nod. The phone left Hashirama’s ear as Mito leaned up against the counter, dominating the conversation by herself. They talked of formality and how they should approach the opposing clan situation, but also of what they would wear, whether or not they should get dinner before the movie.

Hashirama knew the planning process would bore him because he liked to be more spontaneous and in the moment with his dates, but Mito and Madara were far more controlled. And Mito seemed to enjoy planning with…his Uchiha…

Hashirama left the kitchen and sat down on the couch in the living room, ire scratching at him in the far corners of his mind…He heard what Madara’s cousins whispered about in the halls, about Madara and Mito. Even though he knew it wasn’t true, it caused the ire to itch, in his heart and in his head. It was annoying and it hurt him to think of it. He frowned.

It would be worse with Katsuko; she could touch Madara. She could kiss him, run her fingers through his hair, hold his hand.

Hashirama clenched his fists. He told Madara not to be jealous. He wouldn’t be either.

\---

“Tobirama!” The Senju stopped in his tracks at the end of the hall, his cousins surrounding him on both sides.

He didn’t even bother turning, just giving a short glance over his shoulder to acknowledge the Uchiha. “Izuna.”

“We need to talk.”

“I doubt you and I have anything of value to discuss.”

Izuna’s face flushed slightly and he pushed a stray hair out of his eye. “It’s about Hashirama and Madara.” Tobirama’s back stiffened as the other Senjus around him glared the Uchiha down. Izuna held fast, returning the cold looks with ease.

“Go away.” Tobirama hissed to his posse.

“But-“

“I said ‘go away’.” The group dispersed in mere moments, even other kids walking in the hall stayed to the side so they could go around the pair. “Spit it out.”

“Are you stupid? Not here. In private.” Izuna said with a roll of his eyes. Tobirama scoffed, shaking his head. The two of them started to walk together, slipping into the library next to the locker bay. They walked all the way to the back by the non-fiction section. It was deadly quiet when they finally looked at each other face to face.

“Secret enough for you?” Tobirama noticed there was a large bruise on Izuna’s right arm. The Uchiha caught the Senju’s gaze and flushed a little.

“Madara and Hashirama are going into town together this Saturday.”

“Oh? Is that why your brother called?” There was something nonchalant about Tobirama’s avoidant tone and nature. It was unlike him not to be direct. Izuna made a face.

“He called your house?” Izuna cursed under his breath.

“Don’t worry about that, Father wasn’t home.” Tobirama dismissed. He was about to go around the Uchiha when Izuna grabbed the Senju by the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him back. “Let go of me Uchiha.”

“We need to go with them.”

Tobirama’s face was stiff, not showing any emotion to the younger Uchiha. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Izuna snapped. Tobirama’s eyes widened fractionally, but remained impassive. The Uchiha seemed to calm himself, forming his thoughts clearly. “Remember the last time Madara and Hashirama went into town together? They were attacked. We need to be there to back them up.”

Tobirama raised an eyebrow, completely disbelieving of the Uchiha’s words. “No, we don’t.” The Senju said calmly.

“I knew talking to you would be pointless.” Izuna mumbled, he turned away from the Senju. But he turned back when he heard Tobirama scoff behind him. He had to get the last word, Izuna’s pride wouldn’t live it down if he didn’t. He turned on his heel and looked at Tobirama in the eye. “I’ll protect my brother; I don’t care that you won’t protect yours!”

“I eavesdropped.” Tobirama admitted, looking away from Izuna’s gaze. The Uchiha’s face fell blank for a second, listening. “Mito and your brother’s girlfriend will be there too.” He folded his arms across his chest, a slight flush to his face. “Hashirama and Madara don’t need us.”

“I don’t know anything about…that Uzumaki, but I know about Madara’s girlfriend; she can’t fight. She’s useless. If anything were to happen, Madara would have to protect her and himself. I can’t let that happen.”  

Tobirama’s mouth opened and closed. He felt a strange sense of urgency seize him and he turned away from Izuna’s open gaze. “Maybe we could tag along for a little bit, just to make sure…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all reading The Passion yet? It's great. 10/10.  
> Anyway, just to let everyone know, this story may or may not get random little updates every so often-kinda like mini-bangs or lil' bonuses because they won't necessarily fit into the main plot, but they may be things I want to include because they'll either be funny or relevant in some way. Idk yet. Either way, I hope you enjoyed and I'll have part two up in hopefully about 2 weeks? It'll depend on whether or not amazon will send me the right cord for my tablet which contains the lemon that was supposed to go with part 2. Guess we'll see.


	6. The Gamble Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The double-date commences: A movie and dinner seems like a rather simple evening to be enjoyed, but Katsuko misplaced analysis of Madara and Mito's closeness throws a hitch into the best laid plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 pages later, I finally finished this update. and yes, i got the lemon off my tablet, you're welcome. I didn't give up lmao.   
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this second part of the double-date. And my ULTIMATE SHIP.

Mito smoothed her light brown dress, making sure the collar of her dark jean jacket was popped. Her breasts may have been covered by the knit material of her dress but it was tight and put them on full display.  “How do I look?” Hashirama nodded his head approvingly. She had made sure to look unexpectedly beautiful for their date with Madara, something that made him a little jealous.

“Isn’t it too cold to dress like this?” Hashirama said as he pulled at the bottom hem. She smirked and wrapped her arms around Hashirama’s neck. He leaned in, trying to kiss her but she pulled away.

“Don’t ruin my lip stick.” Hashirama clicked his tongue.

“You’re getting awfully dressed up for a date with Madara.” Hashirama commented as he pulled at the material of his turtle neck. Mito slapped his hand.

“Not for him.” She replied, combing her hands through Hashirama’s long hair. “Definitely not for him.” She looked openly defiant as if in thought. Her eyes narrowed as a knock came to the door. Mito turned as Hashirama moved past her to open the door. They both swallowed.

Hashirama’s heart sank as Madara walked through the archway with a woman, who was slightly shorter than him. She wore a long, purple skirt, and knit black top. It was tight enough to show Hashirama that her breasts were modest and smaller than Mito’s. But it was difficult to compare the two women together-they were very different in terms of beauty. It also didn’t help when it was obvious Madara and Katsuko shared a lineage: Her hair was just as dark; it even had the natural spike to it, giving her ponytail a lot of volume. Her skin held a little more color than a normal Uchiha, probably with the help of make-up. Her lips were alluring with a darker shade of lipstick, making them look large and soft. Her eyelashes were long and dark; every time she blinked, they would kiss the apples of her cheeks.

Horror stabbed right into Hashirama’s heart with every second he had to see just how beautiful Katsuko was. How could he even _begin_ to compare to her? The only thing the two of them had in common was probably their hair length.

She turned her face towards him, giving him the full force of her attention with dark, nearly black eyes. She smiled, her lips parting softly. “Nice to meet you, I’m Katsuko-my friends call me ‘Kat’.” Her voice tinkled like shattering glass, having a much higher, feminine pitch than Hashirama had been expecting. She gently took Hashirama’s hand into her own, giving a firm shake. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, even when she shook Mito’s hand. The lingering feel of her skin made him unconsciously touch his hand. He looked over at Madara; the Uchiha’s bright red eyes were watching him. He looked so handsome. 

“Sorry, we’re late. There was a little more traffic than I was expecting.” Madara said as he tugged at the scarf around his neck. It was dark red and illuminated the color of his eyes and the blood in his lips and face. Hashirama’s heart fluttered as he smiled.

“It’s fine.” Mito said with an equally pleasant smile. “It gave me time to make Hashirama change.”

“Oh? What was he wearing before?”

“You don’t want to know.” Mito said as she stopped in front of Madara, smoothing the collar of his leather jacket. “It wasn’t as bad as Monday.” She assured.

“Not much is worse than corduroy.” Madara agreed. The two of the started to laugh.  Hashirama watched as Katsuko seemed motionless, watching, eyes completely transfixed on Madara and Mito. Her body language spoke from its silence: folded arms, slightly scrunched eyebrows, scowl on her lips. She walked right up between them, causing to pause in their hushed conversation. Both stopped laughing as Katsuko grabbed Madara’s arm and held it against her chest. She wrapped her fingers around Madara’s; he turned then, kissing her gently. “Let’s go before we can’t find parking.”

Hashirama quickly wrapped his arm around Mito’s shoulders, pulling her in close. Mito seemed annoyed; her shoulders tense, but she said nothing.

A nagging voice told him it was going to be a very long night.  
\--

Tobirama watched as a dark haired figure popped out of Madara’s trunk. “This is a bad idea.” Tobirama muttered, turning his face back to the front door. He was waiting for Hashirama and Madara to catch them right in the act. Izuna did not seem to be nearly as worried.

“You already snuck out of your room,” Izuna reminded him. “we’re basically halfway done.”

Tobirama shoved Izuna over as he squished in the Uchiha’s trunk, slamming the covering over them.

\---

Hashirama looked incredibly nervous when the four of them pulled over into a darkened alleyway, a little ways from Hashirama’s house. Mito leaned forward as Madara un-buckled his seat belt. He pulled a small silver case from his pocket and handed it over to Katsuko. She opened it and started crushing up, the strongest smelling bud Hashirama had ever experienced in Madara’s car. Usually, the scent only lingered on Madara himself but being so close to the source had his stomach in knots.

Not like he hadn’t been around drugs before or anything. They had never interested him.

Mito offered to roll instead of Katsuko but the Uchiha shook her head, mumbling something about the tightness. Hashirama was tuning a lot of it out because he caught Madara’s eyes in the mirror, enraptured in the stare. Mito presented him with the joint and the Senju just looked at the stinking, white roll of paper.

“Uh…”

Madara, seeming to sense Hashirama’s hesitation, grabbed the joint from Mito’s hand.

“Hold out your hand,” Madara said as he splayed his fingers in Hashirama’s face. “

“Madara, if you’re going to shotgun, Hashi, just pass it back to me.” Mito said.

Madara clicked his teeth. “As if you’re getting this first puff.” He grabbed onto Hashirama’s hand after he lit the joint. He took an impossibly long puff and made a motion for Hashirama to get closer. “I’m taking Hashirama’s weed virginity.” He sounded stuffed up and a few small wisps of smoke came creeping from the corners of Madara’s mouth.

The Senju pressed his mouth against the hole Madara and he had created with their hands and when the small space between them was filled with the hot, billowing smoke, he breathed in. It felt like an eternity but Hashirama finally pulled away. Both of them were coughing. Madara handed Katsuko the joint and as soon as Madara recovered his breath, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Hashirama started coughing again, this time because of the shock jolted his chest so hard that it made him feel like a weight needed to be expelled.

Both of them pulled back and blew out more smoke. Madara laughed, eyes already turning bloodshot. “You ready Mito?”

It continued like this for the next hour-or at least, what felt like an hour. When the creeping prickles of the drug took effect, time seemed to slow down. Hashirama blinked and one minute his three companions were all throwing their head backs shaking with laughter. He watched Madara then, the way his long black hair swayed as his body rumbled with laughter, how far back his lips would pull from his teeth, the vicious way his eyes would look when they would focus on Hashirama, as if to tempt him with the secrets of their depths. He smirked at Hashirama, smoke billowing from his lips as he spoke. Hashirama just nodded his head, not really comprehending the moment-they laughed again.

Then the next minute, they were on the move. He blinked and Mito put a hand on Hashirama’s knee, looking a little concerned. She leaned in, her breast brushed his arm and she was a little less controlled than earlier. “Are you okay, Hashi?”

Madara looked at them from the mirror. “He’s just really baked, Mito. Look how small his eyes are.” Madara started laughing, which got them all going again. But Hashirama this time, was completely in on the moment and felt much more present than he did in previous times. He wondered if it was wearing off or if he was just focusing harder. He was laughing too hard to think properly.

Before he knew it, Mito’s hand was in his and she was leading him to a line. Madara and Katsuko walked in front of them, speaking indistinctly about something. He was gripped by the way Madara’s arm hugged her shoulder, bringing her in close to him. He got very close to her, his lips kissing lightly against her hair as muttered something to her. She laughed, pushing his chest in a playful way.

He turned away from them and-for a short second-he could have swore he saw black, long-haired boy pushing a white-haired one into the alley next to the theatre. He blinked a couple times, “What?” He shook his head.

Mito stopped abruptly and Hashirama almost slammed into the back of her. He was bewildered for a moment, still not having completely shaken off the shock from early. He could hear Madara laugh as they watched him. The Senju pouted to himself.

Hashirama wished it was just them, just the two of them able to hang off each other, exchanging heated words and kisses. He felt his hand tighten in Mito’s and the Uzumaki turned to look Hashirama in the face. “What is it?” He pulled her back to him and pressed their lips together, very passionately. She moaned softly against his lips when he tried to part them, but she pulled back, giving an apologetic peck. “Not here, Hashi.” She was smirking though and Hashirama nuzzled his face against hers. She kissed his temple, laughing when she smeared some lipstick on his skin. She pulled out a napkin from her purse, laughing as she apologized.

That’s when Hashirama caught Madara’s hot gaze. He’d been watching, and the predatory glint, amorously sparkling in crimson eyes made Hashirama shiver. The look of his eye seemed too unreal-his pupil was blown out with, if Hashirama felt overly confident, he’d say lust. Hopefully for him and not for the beautiful woman next to him. But he wasn’t sure. The Uchiha smirked, letting a little bit of teeth show. The Senju could hear his heart beat pick up in his ears-it was so loud he swore Mito could hear it so close.

Hashirama barely remembered buying their tickets and getting to the lobby. Madara was saying something to them but he was still too blurry from the look-it flashed behind his eyes and when he caught the briefest glint of it again with Madara so close to him-he almost messed up. The Uchiha smiled to the women next to them. “Alright, since Hashirama is acting like a freak, I’m going to go help him sober up for the movie.” He slipped some money into Katsuko’s hand. “Get whatever you want, ladies. We’ll find you.” He turned towards Hashirama making a beckoning motion. “Come along, you embarrassment.”

Hashirama huffed with indignation at the statement. “You’re so rude.”

“Oh, he speaks.” Madara commented and Hashirama raised an eyebrow. Had he really been so far gone in his own high hole that he’d been forgetting to talk? The entire prospect of that made Hashirama’s stomach jump with swallowed laughter. Madara snickered to himself too and grabbed onto the Senju’s sleeve, leading him back towards the bathrooms.

When they were far enough away, Madara’s fingers slipped into his. The warmth spread through Hashirama at the gentle comfort of just a small touch. He laughed and Madara turned his head. “Don’t laugh, weirdo.”

As they entered the bathrooms, the last man seemed to leave. Madara took Hashirama up to the sinks and turned them on, filling his hands with water. Hashirama just watched as Madara leaned over, completely vulnerable with his back to the Senju. The Uchiha turned suddenly, giving Hashirama a face full of water. He shivered, swearing as he went to wipe his face with his hands. “Hashirama, are you in there?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because you’ve literally been in a different planet this entire time. Mito and I were starting to worry.” Madara smoothed some of the hair around Hashirama face, wiping the drops with splaying fingers. “Not that I laced it or anything, I’ve just never seen someone so…quiet.”

“Coming from the one who tells me to shut up constantly.”

Madara smirked and he leaned in, stopping only for a moment to look around the bathroom. “Do you know a good way to shut someone up?” The Uchiha was leaning in, lips parting just barely.

Hashirama’s brain was too foggy. “Punch them in the face?” Madara paused, taken aback by the earnest way Hashirama had replied to his obvious flirtations. He laughed, heartily at the Senju’s innocence.

“Not exactly what I was thinking. Maybe I should show you?” Hashirama raised an eyebrow as Madara reached forward, getting pulled into the Uchiha’s sphere. Their lips met and the Senju melted, his body relaxing into the soft press of their mouths. Madara moaned as Hashirama pressed him back against the sink, prying his mouth open. He let go of the front of Hashirama’s turtle neck, wrapping his arms around the Senju’s neck. He was on his tip toes so that neither of them would break the kiss as they continued.

The kiss seemed to last forever-not that Hashirama minded it. The prickling of the marijuana in his system mixing with his sudden and bristling arousal made for a very heady, intoxicating experience. “I’ve been watching you all night.” Madara muttered hotly against the Senju’s lips. “I want you.” Hashirama moaned, sucking on the Uchiha’s bottom lip, rolling it between his teeth.

“I want you too.” Hashirama’s breath fanned against Madara’s face and the Senju pulled at the scarf on the Uchiha’s neck, revealing some of the creamy, white skin beneath. Madara moaned but then started to grab at Hashirama’s hands, pulling his scarf back up.

“No marks, Hashi.” He hissed, holding the Senju’s hands in his own. Hashirama whined-he pulled Madara’s hands up to his face, nuzzling them with disappointment. Madara sighed, shaking off the Senju’s hands. He reached up and ran a comforting hand through Hashirama’s hair. Both of them seemed breathy, Madara’s eyes shining darkly and openly with his own lust. Hashirama kissed Madara’s palm, trying to signify with just his kisses how much he really wanted the Uchiha. “I wish we were alone.” Just hearing the echoes of his own thoughts from early made Hashirama’s heart skip a beat. Madara sighed, “Come on, Hashi. We can’t ditch our dates.”

Hashirama frowned, his brow furrowing. Madara made a motion with his hand and the Senju leaned in. He place a gentle kiss on the Senju’s forehead. The feeling of Madara’s strong fingers against his scalp had his spine tingling and the Senju wished more and more they could be alone. He had never wanted Madara so badly…

Even in the Uchiha’s presence with his full attention, Hashirama needed more. He wanted everything Madara could offer him.

It felt like he was starving.   
\--

After a few minutes and some awkward shuffling, Madara and Hashirama found Mito and Katsuko. They were leaned into each other, chatting in low voices. From the defensive way both women carried themselves, and how they seemed relatively dependent on their partners for attention, neither woman cared for the other’s companionship. It was more than apparent and more than awkward. Madara sat down between Katsuko and Mito, Hashirama settling in on the other side of Mito. She reached up and caught the Senju’s hand as he walked by, holding it in her own.

When they settled in, the screen lit up and the tell-tale music started for the previews.

Hashirama snuck glances at Madara the whole time; it was relatively easy because Mito was shorter than the Uchiha. He watched the Uchiha shove popcorn and candy into his mouth-he obviously had the munchies by the now considering he’d never seen Madara act like this. Hashirama laughed and the Uchiha raised an eyebrow turning to look slightly in the Senju’s direction-his hand had stopped half-way to this mouth with another fistful of popcorn.

The Senju tried to focus on the movie, but every time he would find his attention wandering to Madara’s face-which in the end turned out just fine because he’d look over and Madara would be waiting to catch his gaze. He gave a knowing smile, wiggling his eyebrows, and then he flicked a kernel at the Senju’s face.

The kernel bounced off Hashirama’s face and hit Mito in the cheek. She turned her head quickly-the music in the movie picking up as she faced the Uchiha. Madara opened his mouth to defend himself but before a single word could be uttered, Mito slammed her fist into the Uchiha leg-the exact place in the muscle which would cause his leg to have a spasm. The Uchiha grabbed his leg, trying to massage the cramp out of it. The Uchiha paused hearing laughter behind him-even to Hashirama the laugh seemed very familiar. Both turned their heads to look into the seats behind them. Neither recognized a face in the crowd. Madara shrugged turning his attention back to his leg, thumb digging deeply into the muscle.

If Hashirama hadn’t known better, he would have thought that it was his brother laughing. He wrapped his finger’s around Mito’s, letting the thought pass.

He focused on the screen, watching and trying to remember just what had happened to lead up to present part of the movie he was watching but for the life of him, he could remember much of anything. He was brought out of his thoughts when he noticed both Mito and Madara fidgeting beside him. They had to share an arm rest and neither was willing to split it fifty-fifty.

Mito and Madara shared a defiant look, both locked into a shove. Their arms were pressed right against each other, pushing as hard as they could without looking obvious. Hashirama couldn’t believe what he was seeing-mostly because there was no way Madara would be able to win. Mito’s strength seemed endless and for someone who barely showed their muscle definition, she was ridiculously strong.

The irritation between the of them was palpable at this point and Hashirama shook his head, trying to ignore the shaking of their shoulders, the gritting teeth, or their constant fidgeting. Hashirama tried to pull his hand out of Mito’s-who was squeezing him so hard by this point that he thought his fingers were fracturing. At some point, Mito had finally mustered enough incognito strength to push Madara’s arm off the arm rest, but with the appendage giving way, Mito’s arm also slipped. Her hand pushed off the rest and into Madara’s lap. Her fingers splayed against Madara’s thigh.

Katsuko reached over, grabbing Mito’s hand with her own and basically throwing it out of Madara’s lap like it was a piece of garbage. Her stared pinned down Mito and Hashirama for a few moments, both of them a little stunned from the sudden hostility Katsuko was showing. Madara blocked her view of the other couple, leaning in and saying something to her. Hashirama felt a wave of nervousness wash into his stomach from that look.

“She knew that was an accident, right?” Mito asked him, and the Senju just shrugged. From her reaction, Hashirama doubted it. But there was no way Katsuko didn’t see them locked in a battle of the arm rest, right? Hashirama sighed, putting a hand over Mito’s knee and the Uzumaki tore her attention away from where Madara and Katsuko were whispering harshly to each other.  
\----

The ride to the restaurant was incredibly quiet. The earlier, bubbly mood had completely deflated because of the palpable anger between the Uchihas. Mito and Hashirama could feel the tension between Katsuko and Madara, even though neither let any of their emotions show on their face. Both of them knew Madara way better than to believe the Uchiha had let the whispered conversation go completely. He held grudges.

And so did Katsuko, apparently.

She sat with her arms folded over her chest, knees also crossed, looking out the passenger side window. When they pulled up to the restaurant and parked, Madara made sure to stop extra hard so Katsuko lurched forward. “Oh sorry,” Madara said in an insincere voice. “Didn’t know you weren’t ready.” He smiled with an obvious viciousness. His teeth were showing and his eyes were narrowed. Hashirama felt awkward and tried not to look at the two of them as they glared.

All of them got out of the car, Mito and Hashirama keeping their slight distance from the Uchiha pair as they started to throw insults and bicker in front of them. They were squeezing each other’s hands as they walked forward.

Mito sighed, “Maybe, next time, it should just be the three of us.”

“I don’t think Madara would be too pleased if we didn’t invite him.” Mito playfully shoved the Senju’s shoulder, laughing.

When they got the host, things seemed to have cooled down, at least a little before they were seated. Mito pulled out a pocket mirror, checking her makeup before sighing. She turned her head towards the ladies’ room. “I’ll be right back,” She said to Hashirama, giving him a peck on the cheek. “If our waiter comes, I want water, okay?”

“Dr. Pepper, got it.” Hashirama gave her a thumbs up.

Mito laughed, “Actually that does sound really good.”

“I know, right?”

“I’ll come too.” Katsuko announced, digging around in her purse for her lipstick. “I need to freshen up. Madara-”

“Diet Pepsi.” He said settling down in the booth. She leaned into him and he turned his head, catching her lips for a brief second before she straightened up, leading their way to the bathroom.

Hashirama sat down opposite Madara in the booth, looking deeply into his friend’s eyes. “You okay?”

Without Mito and Katsuko to crowd the space, Madara let the annoyance show on his face. He let out an exasperated sigh and leaned forward so that his elbows were resting on the table-it also brought the two of them closer, something Hashirama immediately noticed. The Uchiha’s foot traced upwards, following his calf, over his knee, and to the inner, sensitive skin of his thigh.

“I don’t know. She was really mad about Mito’s hand on my thigh-for some reason. It was really stupid. Like, it was obviously an accident, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, then why was she mad?” Madara threw his hands up a little to emphasize his point.  “I literally don’t understand women, honestly. I mean-I mean, really, _you_ didn’t get angry when Mito’s hand fell into my lap-because you understand that it didn’t mean anything.” Hashirama’s eyes widen when Madara went on his rant-he wanted to laugh, really, he did just because of how open and honest Madara was being but he knew the Uchiha would clam up if he were to show any form of mocking in this moment. “And then-“

Madara suddenly stopped speaking and for a brief moment, Hashirama believed it was because Mito and Katsuko had come back, but when he looked to the side and saw the host with Izuna in one hand and Tobirama in the other, Hashirama felt a prickle of anger settle within him so deep, he knew he couldn’t open his mouth otherwise it would come up like vomit. Tobirama and him made eye contact and his younger brother tried to pull out of the host’s hand, knowing there was fury in those depths.

“I believe these two belong to you?” The host said, puling against Tobirama’s arm as the younger Senju tried to pull away. “I found them trying to sneak in through the kitchen.” The Host hauled up Izuna to the table and basically threw him at Madara. “And _that one_ bit me.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten bit if you had let go of me, stupid.”

“Ankle-biting brat.”

Madara frowned, snatching Izuna and forcing him to sit against the window, pressing into him so he couldn’t run. Tobirama, finally being let go, looked as though he was take his chances running to the door when a well-placed glance from Hashirama stunned him in place. The Senju patted the open part of the seat next to him and Tobirama hesitated for a moment before taking a seat next to Hashirama.

“Honestly, what irresponsibility the two of your exhibit.” The host said, putting both his hands on his hips. Madara was reaching down into his pocket. “I ought to call your parents, or the police, something to make sure you get the reprimanding you deserve.”

Madara placed, what looked like, several hundreds of dollars into the host’s hands. “In case the little one is rabid.” The host immediately shut up, nodding his head.

“Very good, sir.” He said with a forced smile. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Madara and Hashirama turned their full attentions to their younger brothers, both not looking a bit amused. Izuna grabbed the menu from in front of Madara and the Uchiha brought it up to cover his face, blocking out his brother’s angry stare. “Izuna.” The younger Uchiha jumped a little at the sound of his name. “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

“Look at the specials?” He tried to play off his fear but Madara pushed the menu back onto the table.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”  
\---

Mito pressed the cushion of powder to his cheeks, making sure to smile widely to get the perfect amount of blush on the apples of her cheeks. Katsuko emerged from the stall behind her, washing her hands in the sink. Both of them hadn’t said a word to each other since the theater, which was fine with Mito because she could barely stand this woman.

She wasn’t sure why, whether it be because of her Uchiha upbringing or something else, Mito found that Katsuko was a total bitch. She wasn’t as good as reading people as Hashirama, to be sure, but the Uzumaki had spent enough time in her mother’s brothels to know when a cream-of-the-crop cunt had shown up. In the moments she had been forced to talk and interact with her, she found the Uchiha to be stuck-up, attention seeking, and far too pompous to be attractive. Of course, she really doubted Madara actually saw any of this true behavior-she knew her hot-headed Uchiha friend would never be able to stand such childish acts. He needed a real woman, someone who could actually stimulate him both emotionally and intellectually.

Mito pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser and blotted at the lipstick around the corners of her lips-Izuna acted rather bratty, didn’t he? And Madara was a good brother to him-so maybe the Uchiha didn’t mind it? Mito doubted that.

She pulled her hair free of the band around it, letting the long red locks fall down her shoulders. She pulled all of her hair into her hands, smoothing it as much as she could without a brush. Mito felt Katsuko’s eyes on her, she was watching the Uzumaki play with her hair, she’d watched too when Mito was fixing her make-up. If Mito hadn’t have known better, she would think Katsuko was sizing her up.

“You’re very pretty,” Katsuko announced, suddenly.

The compliment took Mito off-guard, blinking at the other woman’s openness. “Thank you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you exemplify the beauty of your family.”

“Oh, so you like the Uchiha look?” There was a loaded feeling to the question so Mito shrugged.

“It’s hard to ignore that you and Madara are very attractive. Anyone with eyes knows.”

“I suppose so.” Katsuko confirmed. She wiped at the stray mascara marks underneath her eyes, smiling to see if there was any lipstick on her teeth. It didn’t seem like Katsuko was prodding Mito to fish for compliments-it was like she was trying to confirm something or waste time before making her real point. Mito chose to ignore it. Like most Uchihas, Katsuko too seemed to have a certain social awkwardness to her that Madara and everyone else in the family suffered from. It was a bluntness Mito had gotten used to throughout the years she’d spent with Madara. Even if Katsuko herself was trying to be…more polite about what she was about to say, it would come out.           

“You have sex with Hashirama yet?” Mito blinked, lips thinning into a line. And there it was. She thought back to that wonderful night with Hashirama and how it was all ruined by Tobirama and Madara.

She scowled at the memory. “Almost, but his brother interrupted us.”

“Something similar happened with Madara and myself.” Mito paused, looking at the Uchiha girl’s eyes in the mirror. She was staring at Mito, anger boiling her irises. “How far have you gone with Madara?”

Mito couldn't help but laugh. She finished her pulling her hair through to make a ponytail and smoothed the sides. “You’ve been listening to too much of your cousins’ gossip. Madara and I are barely even friends.”

“Bullshit.” Katsuko’s eyes were wild and bright. It reminded Mito of Madara’s passion in the middle of an argument: it spoke of intent and bloodlust. “You can't lie to me, Uzumaki whore. I saw that hickey you left, and how you ‘ _innocently_ ’ slipped your hand in Madara’s lap during the movie! Really living up to your reputation, aren't you? Queen of the whores!”

“I assure you, you will want to take back those words.” Mito’s face was smooth and gave no hint of her intentions. “If you don't, I’ll make you eat your teeth.” She stood in front of Katsuko, bumping into her shoulder as she tried to pass to exit the bathroom.

The Uchiha held firm, pushing Mito back. “I’m not done with you, cunt. Come face me like a real woman, not the scared, little whore you are.”

Mito straightened her back, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt. She turned towards her, catching Katsuko’s eye with her own and rushed her, swinging.

\---

“I can't believe the two of you followed us here!” Hashirama scolded in a fraternal way; Tobirama avoided eye contact.

“It was Izuna’s idea…” Tobirama muttered.

Izuna’s mouth held open, obviously offended and trying to play off his guilt by pretending to be shocked. Tobirama and Izuna locked eyes, glaring. It was then that the younger Uchiha cracked. “You didn't have to come along.” Izuna hissed.

Madara was massaging the space between his eyes. “Izuna, regardless of who did what, both of you are smart enough to know that following Hashirama and I is dangerous.”

“That's exactly why we did it!” Izuna said in an exasperated tone. “Last time you two were together, you got attacked. How could we assume anything different?”

Hashirama and Madara shared a look. The Senju was taken aback from the somewhat guilt look on the Uchiha’s face. “I get that you two were trying to protect us, but the two of you have to realize that we don't really need it. Hashirama and I are more than capable of handling things on our own.”

“Also, Mito is here and anything we couldn't handle, she could.” Hashirama said with a laugh.

There was an accusatory glint to Tobirama’s eye as he stared hard at Izuna who turned up his chin and looked away. Madara sighed, shaking his head. “Honestly, what are we going to do with you?”

“COME BACK HERE, BITCH!” All four of them turned to see Mito running out of the ladies’ room, hot on Katsuko’s heels. She reached out, digging her fingers into the Uchiha’s long, black hair; weaving her fingers in deep and tight so Katsuko couldn’t pull away. Mito slung the Uchiha’s head, making it bounce off the walls in the narrow corridor leading back into the restaurant.

People were getting to their feet, gasping and muttering among themselves at the sight of the two women.

“Fuck.” Madara and Hashirama both got to their feet quickly, attempting to separate them but Madara had to take a step back to avoid Mito’s swinging fists. Hashirama was elbowed out of the way by Mito when he made a grab for her.

Mito growled low in her throat, jumping onto Katusko’s back. They lurched forward, falling to the ground in front of the table Izuna and Tobirama were glued too, eyes wide in shock. 

“I’LL KNOCK YOUR FUCKING TEETH IN!” She had flipped the Uchiha over, raining blows wherever her fists could make contact. Katsuko suddenly rolled, throwing Mito off-balance and she fell to the side. Katsuko tried to scramble to her feet. “DON’T MAKE ME CHASE YOU!” She yelled; Katsuko screamed as Mito hauled her up by her hair. Her make-up was smeared by her saliva and tears, clothes torn and wrinkled. Katsuko reached up, clawing her crimson red nails into Mito’s forearm. Somewhere, she had lost her jacket, exposing her arms; the Uchiha’s nails found purchase in that creamy, white skin. She seemed only to get more angry when wells of blood were scrapped into her arm by Katsuko so Mito ripped her from the ground, strands of hair tangled in Mito’s fingers as she forced the Uchiha back on her feet.

She moved quickly into a proper stance, her body low and putting her fists up. Swinging her right arm, she popped Katsuko in the jaw before shifting her weight to dodge a lame punch. She used her forward momentum to swing her left arm forward, the follow-through of her left arm knocked Katsuko back onto the table.

Madara and Hashirama moved in unison, knowing the next blow may be the finishing one. They both grabbed onto one of Mito’s arms, holding for dear life as she tried to pull away from them. Madara had seen what these hands were capable of-much more than what she had done to him-those hits could be considered playful. But the blows she was raining down on Katsuko, those were the result of years of training. Mito was a master of hand to hand combat.

“LEMME GO YOU BASTARDS!” She thrashed in their grip, obviously tiring because of all the activity she had been doing in the past few minutes. There was a flush to her cheeks, a drop a sweat building the in corner of her temple, wetting base of her hair. “I’LL FINISH HER FOR GOOD.”

“Mito, stop!” Madara nearly lost his grip when Mito stomped down onto his foot; the heel of her shoe digging in painfully. She was looking into his face while she did, grinding her teeth.

“Hey, come on, you won. Give it a rest.” Hashirama’s voice showed the obvious strain he was under enduring Mito’s strength.

“YOU DON’T GET IT, HASHIRAMA! YOU WEREN’T THERE! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE SAID TO ME!"  Madara looked over Mito’s head at the Senju, searching for an answer to his confusion, but he was just met with an equal confused look. Hashirama shrugged. Mito pulled and fought, trying cheap moves like kicking and stomping. After a few more seconds of struggling, Mito started panting and calmed, unflexing all of her tense muscles.

“Jeez.” Hashirama muttered as his grip slightly loosened.

“Is that all you’re going to do, Madara?!” Katsuko accused, her face was swollen and bruised around her mouth and eyes, meaning that even before they had come out of the bathroom, Mito had laid her hands on that pale flesh. Mito, herself, did not look nearly as roughed up. She had a few strands out of place and her clothes were mused up, but her make up wasn’t smeared nor was she darkened with bruises. “She hit me!” There was a fury in her eyes as she stared at Madara’s impassive face. He moved towards her and put a gentle hand on her face, the back of his hand caressing her cheek.

“What did you say to Mito?”

Katsuko’s eyes widened as she stared into Madara’s face-the expression of which had changed. Annoyance caused him to frown, his eyebrows closing in to show his disapproval. “WHAT? ARE YOU TAKING HER SIDE?” Katsuko reeled back and slapped Madara with all of her strength. “HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN FUCKING HER?”

“What are you talking about?” Madara snapped back. He grabbed onto Katsuko’s wrists and shook her so she would snap back into focusing on him and not keep glaring at Mito from over the Uchiha’s shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Everyone is the restaurant was buzzing and the host had a phone to his ear, probably calling the police. Hashirama tried to signal to Madara that they needed to leave but the Uchiha was too caught in his moment with Katsuko.

“Fuck…” Hashirama muttered under his breath.

Katsuko ripped the scarf off of Madara’s neck, “THAT. THAT FUCKING MARK ON YOUR NECK.” Hashirama paled at the realization-this was all his fault. “How long have you been fucking that whore?” She tried to slap Madara again but the Uchiha easily caught her wrist this time, looking down at her with the coldest expression in his arsenal. Hashirama swallowed, nervousness eating at his gut.

“Who says it’s her that I’ve been fucking? And who gave you the right to say that I have to be exclusively yours? I owe you nothing; you mean nothing to me. You’re a family obligation that I hold in no high regards. Even if Hashirama and Mito are enemies, I care more about what happens to them than I ever will about what happens to you. SO, HEED WHAT I SAY AND DO NOT DARE TO DISRESPECT THEM AGAIN.” Madara let Katsuko’s wrists go, slightly pushing her back against the table. “Let’s go.” He motioned for everyone but Katsuko to follow him. Hashirama swallowed nervously as he led Mito and their little brothers back to the car.   
\---

All morning, Hashirama had been bothering him. It started when the Senju obnoxiously called to him after he arrived at school, demanded all of Madara's attention when he got to school in front of both of their cousins. It brought a lot of suspicion to the pair but none of their cousins were brave enough to say anything-well, Mito would have, had she been present to witness the scene-but much to Madara’s shock, she was no-where to be seen.

Madara assumed then, Hashirama must have just been lonely.

But then, Hashirama got worse between first and second period, even attempting to get Madara to leave half-way through class for a bathroom meet up.  Madara could feel the paper-thin layer of his patience snap during math. Hashirama was an office aid that period and was basically free to wander the school, doing whatever he pleased. He walked by Madara’s classroom and just stared at him, for almost ten minutes.

Abruptly, Madara got to his feet, collected his things and left the classroom. Hashirama was trying to cover his tracks by running down the hall in a dead sprint, obviously believing the Uchiha didn’t see him or didn’t hear his scattered footfalls receding back to the main office.

Madara stood by the main office window, knowing Hashirama would see him, even if it was just in passing. The Senju knew he was coming for him, it was just a matter of when and then of where. He walked by the window, making sure to catch Hashirama’s eyes in his own. The Senju stood, to watch Madara enter the bathroom in the cafeteria. Hashirama knew this maneuver was to draw him out because he did reject his early bathroom rendezvous, but with the Uchiha being so close…Hashirama couldn’t resist.

Slowly, the Senju entered the bathroom. Madara made sure to slam the door behind him, causing Hashirama to jump. The Uchiha smirked, closing in on the Senju, very much willing to vent his frustrations on the man backing away from him. It had been building since that Saturday-the urge. All they’d done was make-out but having just the memory of Hashirama’s taste on his tongue, Madara felt his control snapping, especially with the Senju just popping up whenever he pleased and having him beg for attention. But Hashirama continued to back away, annoying the Uchiha. He made a quick move, pressing Hashirama’s body into the wall and holding it there with his own. He didn’t bother to hide the annoyed look on his face.

“Oh, what now?” Madara had Hashirama pressed up against the wall of the boy’s bathroom. They were chest to chest. Hashirama sheepishly looked over Madara’s shoulder and tried to press his hands against the Uchiha’s chest to create space, but he held fast. “You’ve been nothing but a bother all morning, demanding every single bit of my attention…” Madara tilted his head, lifting his mouth to Hashirama’s exposed neck. “but now, when you have all of it, you try running away?”

“What exactly are you planning?” Hashirama actually looked bewildered. He, once again, tried to push Madara away but the Uchiha only seemed to snarl under his breath. He pushed Hashirama even harder into the wall. “What’s gotten into you?”

“YOU!” Madara yelled. Both of them were silent for a moment; Madara looked over his shoulder. The coast seemed clear; no unwanted audience. “You’ve been picking and needling and digging your way into my every thought lately. And just when I think things have calmed, you come back at full force. You act like you want everyone to know what we’ve done, but now that I’m giving you this kind of attention, you cower at the thought.”

“You’ve been thinking about me?” Hashirama smiled.

Madara frowned, rolling his eyes. “Not the information you were supposed to glean from this talk, Hashirama.” 

“Have you been feeling lonely without me?” Hashirama teased, quickly reversing their positions. Madara’s low growl was replaced with a moan when Hashirama attached itself to his neck. He hoisted Madara up, forcing the Uchiha to wrap his legs around the Senju’s waist. “Mhmm, I’ve definitely missed you.”

“Hashi,” Madara’s voice was low, a warning ringing in its tones. “Hashirama, put me down.”

“Make me.” Hashirama wagged his eyebrows in the Uchiha’s face, and he smirked, feeling more and more competitive and in the mood with every single move Hashirama made. “Give me a kiss, baby.” As Hashirama leaned in, planning on conquering the Uchiha’s lips with his own, he was only met with an unamused and uninterested face. “It’s because I called you ‘baby’, huh?”

“What was your first clue?” Madara unwrapped his legs and dropped both feet to the floor. Hashirama watched with disbelief as Madara turned towards the mirror and started to fix his appearance.

“WHAT? YOU CANNOT BE THAT OFFENDED! IT WAS ABOUT TO GET GOOD.” Hashirama was behind Madara, looking at the Uchiha’s eyes in the mirror, because Madara was not about to turn around anytime soon. “What would you prefer me to call you?”

“Madara?” Madara said as fixed the collar of his leather jacket, his fingers were brushing against the slightly red mark on his neck from Hashirama’s needy lips. “Or maybe your majesty.”

Hashirama started to laugh, slamming his hand down on the sink as he was overcome. “Your majesty.” He managed to wheeze out. “Well, your majesty, if you would kindly,” Madara turned around just in time for Hashirama to hold up his arms to suggest he would carry Madara. He was waggling his eyebrows again. “Your ride is here.”

“Oh shut up.” Madara couldn’t hide the half-smile the from the Senju.

“Come ‘ere!” Madara laughed when Hashirama grabbed him around the waist, and even a little into their kisses. Hashirama smiled, feeling overwhelmed by Madara’s very fun mood. Both of them couldn’t resist the kiss this time, putting all of their excitement into their lips and letting them do all the hard work.

“Hashi.” Hashirama pressed Madara into the sinks behind them. It forced Madara to sit back into one, grunting with discomfort as a faucet dug into his back.

“Shit, sorry.” Hashirama muttered, “there has to be a better place to do this.”

Both of them froze when they heard people talking outside the door. Madara had never moved so fast in his life. He shoved Hashirama and himself into a stall. He forced Hashirama to sit on the toilet and he climbed into the Senju’s lap, pulling up his feet as he did so. He frowned as he Hashirama laughed a little, seeming to enjoy their new situation.

Two men entered the bathroom; Madara recognized the voices as two of his cousins. He froze like a statue on top of Hashirama, horrified. The Senju was biting his lip as Madara squirmed into a steady position. His arousal was being pushed and rubbed against by Madara’s frantic movement and it was not helping to be in such a close space with the Uchiha; he smelled spicy and slightly like smoke.

“I’m just sayin’, I don’t fucking get Madara’s love of this…Shitty place.” Madara’s eyes shot open when he felt Hashirama’s hand slowly creep its way into Madara’s slightly parted lips. His other hand was brushing against the small of Madara’s back, obviously in an attempt to get him to relax. Hashirama was going for broke; he was actually going to try and finger him! “Like we can’t hunt those Senju dogs on campus and Mrs. Canahan is a fucking bitch.”

 A cold sweat erupted on Madara’s brow as he leaned into Hashirama’s shoulder, “I’m sorry,” Hashirama whispered against Madara’s hair. He removed his saliva soaked fingers from Madara’s mouth and snaked his hand to the firm curve of Madara’s ass. He dipped his hand into Madara’s jeans. The Uchiha took a calming, quiet breath and reached his hand into Hashirama’s pants. The Senju jerked, nearly slamming his head into the wall.

“You’re just mad she yelled at ya for not having your homework. If ya weren’t such a fuckin’ idiot all the time, she wouldn’ta been mad at ya.”

“I wasn’t made for school, ya get me? Madara, forget about it, he’s a genius. There’s a reason he’s gunna take Tajima’s spot.”

Hashirama forced Madara’s mouth into his, making them endure silencing each other. Madara was having trouble keeping himself contained as Hashirama’s fingers circled and only gently teased his hole. He bit down on Hashirama’s lip. Hashirama entered him and Madara arched, hand over his mouth. Hashirama wrapped his arm around Madara’s back and forced him into his body. Madara’s hand stilled on Hashirama’s cock. He was whimpering, hand over his mouth as Hashirama continued to dip his fingers in deeply.   

“Do ya think it’s gunna be like this when that long haired fag, Hashirama, and Madara start leadin’ us around?”

“Whattaya mean?”

Hashirama ripped the hand from Madara’s mouth, kissing him again. He held the back of Madara’s head, digging his fingers into the wild mane of hair.

“Ya know, calm? I don’t know, just the other day me and one of them Senju guys ended up in a group in class, he wasn’t even a bad guy. Wave to ‘em in the hall if nobody else around. Meet ‘em out behind the school for a smoke; likes the same cigarettes I do.”

“You been sneaking around with a Senju? Oh man, oh man, if only Pa could see ya. He’d have a heart attack.” Hashirama was still sucking on Madara’s tongue, holding the Uchiha with all his might as he twitched and arched. Hashirama was panting against the Uchiha’s lips, his arousal hitting a peak. Madara had continued to stroke him and all the little sounds he could hear were too much.

“I’m cumming.” Madara muttered.

“Hey don’t punch me! I was just messin’ wit ya! They ain’t as bad as everyone says. And don’t tell no one but I’m romancin’ one of their women. She got a fat ass; real looker. She told me she was gunna destroy me and then winked when she turned away; scary as the day is long, but mhmmm fire hot.” 

“Just hold on,” Hashirama huffed. He slid Madara forward pulling down Madara’s jeans and trying to pull out his cock at the same time.

“Hashirama!” Madara said in a deadly whisper. Both of them tensed up when they heard a slamming on the sink.

“Show me that Senju girl! I think I know which one ya talkin’ bout.” They heard footsteps heading towards the door. Both of them stopped at the open door, as if they had heard something. Madara and Hashirama were both completely silent, waiting.

“Do you think Madara’s hittin’ that fine piece of Uzumaki ass?”

“Oh, I hope so. Then school will get real exciting.”

As soon as the door closed, Madara let his legs fall, his feet hitting the ground. He was about to stand up when Hashirama finally managed to get his dick out of his pants. Madara’s face was flushed, “Not here, you idiot.”

“But,”

“SHUT UP,” Madara opened the stall and fixed his pants. “Come on, Hashirama, or I’ll finish by myself.”

\---

“Mmmm, yes, Hashirama!” Madara’s hand was wrapped in the seatbelt of the backseat; he used it for leverage when he descended own on Hashirama’s cock. The Senju was holding tightly onto Madara’s hips, meeting up with Madara’s movements, needy and wanton. Madara leaned in, licking at the small amount of drool that had pooled in the corner of Hashirama’s mouth.

“I can’t take much more.” Hashirama muttered. “Fuck, you’re amazing, _your majesty_.”

Madara couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, but you’re the one who so _generously_ offered up my throne.”

“I don’t know what gotten into you today, but I never want this to end.”

“Too bad, I’m cumming again.” Madara threw his head back as a rippling wave of pleasure washed over him. Hashirama had gotten significantly better since their first encounter and Madara could barely keep himself contained. He felt way more excited than he should. Hashirama held the Uchiha still, which made Madara look at the Senju, confused. “What are you d-“

He was cut off when Hashirama started to ram into him, fast and hard, holding him in such a way that would maximize his movement. “Cum for me, Madara. I want to see your face when you cum.” Madara’s eyes were wide open as Hashirama’s cock repeatedly pressed into the throbbing spot inside of him. His nails dug into Hashirama’s shoulders, trying more and more to stave off his orgasm if only to enjoy the pleasure even longer. Madara’s hand curled at the base of Hashirama’s head, into the small hairs. He’d pull intermittently. Hashirama gasped, thrusting even harder. “Don’t do that, Madara.” He was it in raspy, heady voice.

“Why, you like it when I hurt you, Hashi? You like it when I pull your hair with your cock buried deep in my a-“ Madara’s hand pulled Hashirama’s head all the way to the head rest, his mouth stilled and open as Hashirama slightly altered their position, causing him to slip all the way to the hilt. Madara couldn’t contain his orgasm any longer. He smashed his mouth into Hashirama’s sucking and biting at the Senju’s lips as the knot in his gut released.

Madara started to go limp in Hashirama’s hands, flopping forward. He panted against the skin of Hashirama’s shoulder as the Senju finished inside him. Hashirama pulled his head over and they kissed gently. Madara moaned, feeling Hashirama massaging his scalp. Madara reached up, cupping Hashirama’s face and rubbing his cheeks with his thumbs. “You were so good.” He muttered between kisses.

“Me?” Hashirama laughed. “What about you? I thought you were going to strangle me the moment I got into your car, but no, it was amazing. And you even talked dirty to me; the best.”

“You do like it when I pull your hair, don’t you?”

Hashirama looked away, his face flushed slightly. “Maybe, a little. It’s kinda hot when you get that aggressive look on your face.”

Hashirama and Madara were laughing, exchanging kisses and erotic rubbing. “If I knew you’d like me being aggressive, I would have just-“ A thought donned on Madara as he looked at Hashirama’s face. “YOU BASTARD HASHIRAMA!”

“What? What did I do?”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE BOTTOM AS PER OUR AGREEMENT!”

“We had an agreement?”

“When we first decided who would be…the receptacle of our love making, we agreed you would be on the bottom after the first time!”

“Well, there’s still plenty of time for that. We can do it right now, I don’t care.” Madara settled down, resting his head on Hashirama’s shoulder.

“No, I’m a little spent at the moment.” Hashirama massaged the back of Madara’s head. The Uchiha rubbed his nose against Hashirama’s neck, giving him soft kisses all the way to the back of his ear. “But next time that ass is mine.” Hashirama laughed at the seriousness in Madara’s tone, but it was out of nervousness not mirth.

“I’ll hold you to those words.” Hashirama smiled as Madara straightened, still sitting in Hashirama’s lap. His ran his fingers against Hashirama’s lip, just watching his face. “What?”

“Sorry, it’s just…” Madara looked away. “Is it okay if we make-out for a while? I know it’s kinda weird, but I just feel like kissing.”

When Madara looked back, Hashirama looked like he had seen stars and was smiling obnoxiously. “YES. ALWAYS.”

Madara actually pulled away from Hashirama’s desperate kissy face. “DON’T BE SO INTO IT!”

“But you said you wanted to kiss!” Hashirama protested. “I am nothing but lips for his majesty.”

Madara started laughing. Hashirama turned them so Madara’s back was lying on the cool leather of the back seat. Hashirama got on top of him, kissing his cheeks, his lips, his neck, anywhere that he could touch. He was too enamored with this Madara, the one that was honest and cute; the one that was vulnerable and sexy. “Hashirama, that tickles, stop!”

“No, not until you tell me you love me!”

“Be serious!”

“I am!” Hashirama continued to play around, kissing and touching. Madara laughed more, trying to turn away from Hashirama but the Senju had a firm grasp on the Uchiha. “Tell me! Tell me!”

After a few minutes of Madara being tight lipped and laughing, Hashirama brought his lips down on the Uchiha’s. He wove a hand into Madara’s hair. He pulled away for a moment, “I love you.” Hashirama paused for a moment looking down at Madara’s smiling face. “I do, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Hashirama said with a sparkle in his eye.

“Are you happy?” Madara reached up, gently caressing the Senju’s bottom lip with his thumb.  Madara tensed up when he saw a tear race down his hand and wrist; he looked up at Hashirama’s face and the beautiful, full smile Hashirama was showing him. “Are you crying?”

“I’m so happy.”

Madara smiled as a tear from Hashirama’s eye fell onto his cheek. He gently pet Hashirama’s head and nausea filled him as Hashirama’s warm body covered his own. Madara’s chest was aching, so much. He didn’t think this would hurt…so much. Madara felt his eyes start to well up but he blinked them away, making Hashirama sit up with him. “Let’s skip the rest of school.” He suggested, wrapping his arms around Hashirama’s neck. “See a movie on our own; we can even sneak in.” He kissed Hashirama then, wondering if the Senju could taste the lies on his lips.


End file.
